Loyalty & Lies
by NURSE J0Y
Summary: He'd loved her since they were children. Before he even knew the meaning of the word. And then one day she went away. Now grown, they've reunited. And there's nothing he won't do to get her back. There's just one problem. Everyone thinks Loki is dead. Things get complicated as lies start to snowball. Set after Thor:The Dark World. Logyn with lots of fluff! Promise M later on!
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

Home.

Some homes creak. And some homes groan. Some, they listen. Their windows watch and their walls, they talk. If only they could truly, oh the things that they would say...

The truth of the matter is, all homes are alive. Living, breathing beings full of such wonder and warmth and love... And crazed, little creatures scurrying about causing quite a ruckus as their mother shouts tirelessly from the kitchen to wash and ready for bed before the Busemann crawls out from where they sleep, armed with sharp claws and wet maw, ready to come and snatch them up and carry them away to a cold, dark land filled with all the bad little boys and girls who refuse to go to sleep! Or dreaded worse, eat their vegetables!

...

And yet, I digress.

...

The weary father sighs.

He pulls his chair up to the fire.

Tis a modest chair. Not a chair of kings or gods or goodly warriors and men. Just a chair. No frills. Unassuming in its size and stature. Unpretentious. Plain and simple. There's no lies there. Tis but a chair of wood and nail and adequate cushioning. And yet for such an ordinary piece of furniture, the man who takes his seat atop it, is anything but.

Though he's been known at times to have many, he needn't even say a word. Not lie nor truth or anything in between. Just sits and the whole of the home takes notice.

With perked ear and wide eye, the wild beasts stop in their tracks for all but a moment. Silence sits heavy and uneasy. Nothing more than a mere heartbeat before the feral ones take charge. A force of nature as they storm through the home to where the weary father sits. Their night shirts hanging off their shoulders. Their raven hair a mess. They wear smiles on their wicked faces. Giddy as they rush the seated man. For now's a time for stories. And stories he has many.

So gather round, children, and I'll tell you a tale. A tale filled with mystery and mirth. Tragedy and sorrow. Love and loyalty. And lies. A tale of devious schemes and even more devious schemers. Fair maidens and gallant heroes. And quite the gallant villain, too. Of gods and goddesses. And monsters old and new.

A tale spun of truth, not a tall one at all. I swear it upon my dear mother's soul! There be no lies within the pages of this story. Cross my heart...

For that is all we are, after all. In the end.

Stories.

Long, arduous stories with a beginning, middle, and an ultimate end. Some chapters happy, while others read sad. But all in all, lives made up of stories none-the-less.

So let's make it a good one, shall we?

Bright-eyed and eager, the two young boys huddle at the storyteller's feet, gazing up at the wordsmith in deep wonder. No book lay in his narrow lap, only narrative resides in his brain. And when he finally parts his lips to speak, all dare listen to his accounting of the tale.

And like so many tales, ours begins a long, long time ago in a galaxy far away...

No...

No, that's not right at all.

...

It begins with a dark prince.


	2. Of Gods And Monsters

**OF GODS AND MONSTERS**

Monster.

He's a monster.

The fiendish creature parents tell their children of as they tuck them in at night. Meant to scare them into being good little girls and boys or else the terrible Frost Giant will come and eat them.

He'd done his part. Played the villain. Played the beast. The monster. With the heroes triumphant, he now stands before them detained. Wings clipped. Declawed. Defanged. Chained. No longer some untamed savage animal, but instead some domesticated lap dog. Something they can handle, control and contain. He walks among them but never one of them. Beneath them. A mockery. A joke.

His chains swing heavily as he shuffles along. Clanking loudly to the tune of the condemned. It rings out, rising above the hushed whispers of the rabble.

Such an extensive use of force if one were to ask. Not that they feel the trickster god poses much of a threat to them now by any means. Instead, the chains herald a warning. Not a warning of what would happen should thou find thyself on the wrong side of Odin's ludicrous laws. No. But a warning not to step too close. For even though this monster has been leashed, if given the chance, he still has plenty bite left in him.

Yet even with him detained as he is, still they fear him. As he walks down these halls, flanked on either side by an escort of guards, none dare look him in the eye.

Good, he thinks. Let them fear him. Why bother with their love and acceptance when he can have their fear instead. A monster needs no love.

Or so he thought. Until his eyes met hers.

His heart skips a beat.

In that one moment, his mind goes blank. The gears have stopped their incessant whirring. It's as if all time has frozen. From across the grand hall, within a sea of angry and frightened nobles and denizens of the court, a connection has been made. An almost recognition. He cannot tear his eyes from her. Nor her from him.

She'd caught his dreaded glare. Head high and assertive, she does not waver. She returns his gaze in kind. Never faltering, she does not back down nor look away. So bold and unafraid.

His feet still move in the direction that he's lead, towards his intended destination. His head ever facing forward. Yet he cannot bear to steal his stare away.

The dark prince swears to himself that he's seen that face before. Those eyes... A haunting shade of the palest blue. Like the sky on a clear winter's day. So cold, you can almost feel the chill. Which is no small task seeing as he, himself, is made of frost. The stuff of an endless winter's day practically flows through his cold, black veins. And even still, a shudder runs through him. A bolt of electricity sparks up his spine, starting at the small of his back, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end at her attention.

Yet somehow she, herself, appears so warm. With creamy skin of fresh milk and hair of spun gold, she's certainly a sight to behold. A goddess in every sense of the word, she stands apart from the crowd. Like him, she does not seem to belong.

He'd try to place the name and face, but it means little to him now. Though he'd found himself drawn to her for reasons not of his understanding, like a bright spot in a crowd of mundane neutrality, now all he sees is red. Despite whatever strange stirrings he had felt inside his belly and his brain, it has all but vanished. In its wake, the feeling has been replaced with that of hate.

"Who dares?"

Loki mutters to himself. His lips snarl up, disgusted. He tears his eyes away.

His brother at his side takes notice. He turns his head lazily.

"Who dares what?" Thor asks, tired with his adopted brother's ramblings. How he'd secretly wished they'd kept the mask on the entirety of the way before the proceedings, he would not have to listen to the liesmith's crooked tongue.

"That foul wench who so has the gall to cast her eyes upon me with such... such..."

Sadness? Pity? Concern?

How DARE anyone concern themselves with him. To think they know him so deeply as to feel sadness for him? To feel pity?

And why SHOULD they? He is not one to be pitied. He'd rather die a thousand deaths, each more terrible than the last, than to accept anyone's pity. He will have their obedience and admiration. Their fear. Their respect. Or nothing at all.

These people are sheep. Base and lowly with the need to be ruled. Only slightly more sophisticated than the hairless apes of Midgard, yet beneath him nonetheless.

And while he may ultimately be a monster, he is still royalty. Though dark, he is still their prince and will be regarded as such. Loki is above such toilers of mud and will not be looked down on by anyone. Not Thor, not Odin, and certainly not some rutting disrespectful quim.

Just who the hel does she think she is to look at him like that? It fills his frigid heart with such a white hot rage.

"You distract yourself." Thor speaks low so only Loki can hear him. Yet even still, his thundering voice cuts through the younger brother's heated thoughts. "It is not the opinion of the local flavor you should have worry for. But the judgement of HIM."

The witless oaf means Odin. Father to all, but none to Loki. It is his cruel glare that awaits him next. His ruling that will decide his very fate. The dark prince knows it is HE who he should be concerning himself with, and yet he cannot strike the haunting woman from his maddened mind.

Loki turns his head to match eyes with her again, but finds that she is missing. He searches the crowd, but the more he looks, the more he realizes she's not there. She's left. While others have stayed to cower in fear and curiosity, she has gone. To where? He does not care. Or at least he tells himself so. Tis but a fleeting moment and it's gone.

The procession is all but over, anyhow. They've arrived upon Odin's throne room. His "mother" awaits their arrival, standing outside the heavy, gilded doors.

"Loki..."

Frigga breathes the word as if it weighs heavy on her chest. As if it pains her so.

"Hello, mother." The dark prince greets sarcastically with a bite of venom to his tone. "Have I made you proud?"

She too looks at him with those same pleading eyes and this time he can't help but laugh at the irony of it all. That's twice now. In the same day. Which is more empathy anyone has ever given him in all his entire life.

"Please, don't make things worse..."

Her voice is small, on the verge of begging.

The All Mother wants so badly to reach out and to hold him. To kiss his scars and tell him everything will be alright. That it is all but a nightmare and it is nearly over now. She wants so badly to go back. To the days of skinned knees and harmless pranks. To when he was her precious little boy and the world seemed so kind and new. But the man standing before her is not that boy. Perhaps he never was. Whatever happened to him after the fall to make him this way, she hardly recognizes him. While he, he glares at her in icy indifference. As if she were never his mother at all.

"Define worse." Loki replies in a harsh bitter cold.

Too blinded by his own arrogance and pride, the would-be king cannot see beyond his anger to find that there are still those who truly love him. For monsters feel no love. And, numb, Loki feels nothing.

As he approaches his final judgement, a cold comfort washes over him in knowing that he needs not their empathy or their pity or anything or anyone at all. That when he is king and he owns the throne of Asgard, should anyone ever dare to look at him as such again, that he'll tear their eyes out at the bloody roots.

With a wide, wicked grin, the God of Evil lets slip a wry snicker.

And that's a promise you can trust.

* * *

 _ **Ok, so I've changed some things. And I'm only going to be changing a whole lot more!**_  
 _ **With Thor: Ragnarok still a year away, I'm going to go and slap a disclaimer on here that this story is in no way or claim canon! (I'm no Norn witch! I can't predict the future!) It's AU. MY head canon! I'll be taking my writer's liberties (as has the MCU with a LOT of things) and changing character biographies and origins and such along the way. Mostly Sigyn (as there really isn't much of a backstory for her ANYWAY whether in the comics or in folklore. So this will be a work of MY folklore which is mostly an amalgamation of all the stories, fanfic and otherwise, that I've read of her. We create our own gods. So this will be my creation of her among other characters!) So please, no hate mail that I got something wrong. I swear I've done my research! I know what I'm doing! (fingers crossed behind my back) I wouldn't lie to you! Promise!  
So sit back and enJOY. Keep livin' la vida Loki!**_


	3. The Sirens Call

**THE SIRENS CALL**

"Something needs to be done with Vanaheim. Ever since the attack on Asgard-"

"Oh, why bother with the Vanir. Tis the Light Elves we should-"

"Again with Alfheim? That is all you ever speak of!"

Much time has passed now since the Dark Elves seized the godly realm of Asgard. That dark day in history that none shall ever forget.

Time heals and walls can be mended. Construction is nearly at its completion and yet the blemish remains. While the dead have long since been buried and life has resumed as it was, a great unease weighs heavy in the air. And with it, the threat of war.

Whatever peace Thor had striven so greatly to achieve, has all but nearly vanished. The once untouchable land of Asgard had been brought low. Defeated. A sad truth, the death knell which rang forth to all surrounding lands and its peoples. For who's to say it can't or won't happen again? With word of its queen slain, its king aged and tired, and its champion, Thor, having defected for Midgard, leaving the realm unprotected, it's only a matter of time before some upstart decides to come and make a name for themselves by taking claim to Godheim as their own.

And while the thought of war might have at one time posed quite entertaining for the trickster god, these discussions are anything but. So droll and mind-numbingly dull are they that for the first time in his miserable life, Loki actually wishes he were anywhere BUT tending to the throne.

Not that anyone KNOWS it is he who sits upon said throne. Well... Not anyone who matters, anyway.

More than anyone, certainly more than Thor, Loki understood the politics of it all. He understood the weight the crown does carry and all the responsibility that comes with it. Yet even with talks of war and strife, he finds himself bored out of his mind.

Don't get him wrong. It's not as though he thought the status of king would be FUN.

Ok. Maybe just a little...

The Jotun-born knew what to expect should he ever become king, but he certainly wasn't expecting THIS. To be haunted day and night by an entourage of withered old geezers acting as advisers to the crown. When in truth, they couldn't advise themselves out of a burlap sack.

And Valhalla forbid that burlap sack were to be infested with snakes and set on fire... Well... Mayhap THAT would pose entertaining. But still...

He can hardly get a moment's peace without someone wanting something, while HE... He hasn't a clue what it is he wants anymore. His whole life he'd THOUGHT he wanted the crown, his birthright, and now... Now he just feels empty. As if something is missing. Something unseen.

Every now and then, when he's at his lowest, he swears he even misses Thor. Reminiscing on him being stripped of his royal garb and hammer and having been outcasted to Earth. Or perhaps the certain shade of crimson father's face would turn after the witless oaf had returned from the taverns, falling over himself, a drunken disgrace. And sometimes. Very seldom. Loki finds his thoughts remembering his laugh. That deep, stormy thunderclap of a rumble that would shake the room right down to its foundation. That booming baritone that is so infectious that even cold-blooded Loki at times had given himself to its revelry.

Not that the Lie-smith would ever admit it, of course. Not even to himself. Whenever such fond thoughts arise, he simply turns his mind elsewhere. Which is usually someplace dark. And cold.

But now, as he walks these grand halls with his team of ten or so advisers going on and on and ON about diplomacy or some such matter, he finds himself so bored that he'd actually WELCOME the thought of Thor. Fond or otherwise. ANYTHING would be a welcomed distraction to this ceaseless jabbering.

Mayhap a disappearing trick is in order.

Still under the guise of Odin, Loki ducks down low. So engrossed with their discussion, the advisers don't even notice that their king has gone missing. They simply continue on without him, walking further and further down the hall. And when they're out of sight, the tricky king stands and performs yet another display, this time in the form of magic. An illusion. One he's quite fond of. Which just so happens to be shapeshifting from that of a tired, old king into a more youthful make and model.

In a flash of green, he takes form.

Tall with broad shoulders and a typically Asgardian physique, he's not quite as attractive as the Master of Mischief's true form, but really, like anything COULD be. Still, it suits him quite well. He wears the colors and uniform of the Crimson Hawks, Odin's elite guard. And THIS false skin he wears in particular is fashioned after the leader of said Crimson Hawks, Odin's commander and most trusted guard.

There is nowhere in all of Asgard that this construct cannot wander. Which is nice when Loki chooses to escape the rigid responsibilities of king. Which just so happen to be more and more lately these days.

Whistling a dandy tune, the commander clicks his heels and turns about face, walking the opposite direction from that which the advisers were heading.

There's a welcomed simplicity with wearing this face that he has never quite known. There's no expectations of him. Nor does anyone ask anything of him or care for his opinion on the economy of Elves or the readings of Norns. Of prophecies and war. The daily squabbles of the townspeople. Another baby is born. Another marriage needs blessed. Sven Larson stole his neighbors pig and must be punished accordingly. The local blacksmith ran off with the cobbler's wife... Everyone has a dilemma that needs tending to. Everybody wants something. But not of THIS face. With THIS face, it's quiet. And pleasant.

Though as pleasant as it might be for the moment, Loki finds his quiet has quickly found its end.

With a heavy sigh, he stops in his tracks. Head lolled to the side impatiently.

"I thought I told you never to bother me here on castle grounds." Loki groans in his stolen identity's rather deep, masculine voice.

"Oh? Am I a bother, now?"

A woman emerges from the shadows.

Dainty with a soft face and doe eyes, she paints quite the pretty picture. A perfect specimen of both femininity and grace. From her manner of appearance and dress, right down to the sweet gentle lilt of her voice. On the outside, she is absolutely sublime. But to all of those who know her. Really, REALLY know her. All that beauty and charm are nothing more than pretty little lies. And lies are what he does best. For the Father of all Liars knows, when you peel back all the silk and lace and oh so flawless skin, she's absolutely empty inside. There's nothing more than blackness. A deep, dark pit of rot for where her soul should have been.

"Not now, Lorelie." Loki returns with a grunt. "I have no time for the prattlings of whores."

With dangerous curves, she slinks her way over to where he stands.

"That hurts." She pouts with those dewy, full lips. "I do have feelings, you know."

"I highly doubt you're capable of feeling much of anything these days. With the exception of those originating from that endless void which dwells between your legs." He complains. "Now what is it you want?"

Hands on her hips, she cocks her head and gives him a false smile, letting her silken auburn hair fall delicately around her heart-shaped face in loose curls.

"You can at least PRETEND to enjoy my visits." Lorelei whines. "I am, after all, to thank for your securing the throne."

"YOU and your louse of a sister had NOTHING to do with my ascent to king." Loki sneers in return.

The vile siren moves her position, slowly circling round the false king as a tiger to its prey.

"Mayhap you are correct." She relents with a sigh. "But we ARE responsible with your KEEPING it."

She stops again in front of him, her hand idly resting on his illusion's broad chest. Taking a deliberate step closer, he finds her nearly pressed against him. So close he can smell her sweet perfume. That and the scent of the men she's lain before meeting with him.

"And come now... There's no need for lies." The temptress leans in close to breathe against his skin. Her breath hot and laced with the bitter stench of magic. "I know how much you LOVE what dwells between my legs."

It's true. Not the part that he loves her, which he most definitely does NOT.

Yes, they may have shared the same bed together. And table. And wall. And that one time he had her bent over the throne... But that's beside the point. What IS true is the fact that Loki could never have kept the title of king as he has without the aide of both Lorelei and her sister, Amora.

He'd liberated them from their respective cages, used their talents of deception towards his ends. Such as hiding his true form from that of Heimdall, the ever vigilant all-seeing eye of Asgard. And any other nosy guard or dignitary who may or may not have grown wise and gone about poking their heads into matters that needn't concern them.

It was Loki who had granted them their freedom. Free to roam the realms unhindered and unchained. Though it is certainly in everyone's best interest to steer clear of Midgard, lest they run the chance of bumping into those pesky S.H.I.E.L.D. fellows, or worse, Thor. But still, they'd offered him their services in exchange for the license of free reign.

But, as he was too soon to find out, what good are their services if he cannot keep their wicked tongues from flapping? Unfortunately for him, with their freedom did not come their allegiance. It seems there is simply no honor among villains these days.

And that's when the blackmail began.

They would honor him and serve his will and in exchange for their silence, they merely asked one thing. They would keep his secret safe, his faked death and even faker Odin, in exchange for a small, teeny tiny, itsy bitsy favor. Though the details of such a favor are still very much a mystery to him.

"Don't tell me you don't ENJOY it." Lorelei grins up at him wickedly.

The sight of her as she seduces him so make the bile rise from his belly. He can taste it, acrid and awful in the back of his throat. She's absolutely nauseating.

"Believe me when I say, I take no JOY in what we do together." Loki replies quite clearly. "From our shameless acts of congress to these displeasing talks. I have no heart for any of it."

He can sense her magic swirl within his blood, pumping through his veins like poison. Ever the viper, she's sunk her teeth into him. As she's done so many times before. Her sirens song has come calling. Luring him off into dangerous waters. He's lost all control to her. He has no choice but to give in to her wiles.

Or so he tells himself.

"I didn't mean US." Lorelei laughs. "I meant KING. Tell me you do not enjoy being KING."

Maybe there's a part of him that still so desperately wants to be loved. NEEDS to be loved. Buried down deep. Maybe he WANTS to be helpless to her. To anyone. So much so, that he'll take it wherever he can get it. Even if it means climbing headfirst into the jagged maw of a lion.

"So often now I've seen you parading around as this... COMMONER." She whines, placing emphasis on the word 'commoner' as if it were the most foul word her lips have ever spoken. She means his disguise as the commanding Crimson Hawk. The skin Loki's been escaping to when not playing Odin. "Is there a reason for this? Do you take no pleasure in your role as king any longer?"

One heavily bejeweled arm wraps tight around his midsection, coiled like a snake, while the other rests softly on his shoulder. Her chin sits sweetly atop his chest, her face tilted up at him. Her piercing verdurous eyes bored deep into his.

Loki sighs.

He knows she's simply playing him. To what end, he's not quite sure.

The Lord of all Liars could so easily avoid her tricky ways. Turn the spells she's cast around on themselves. Put up a magic dampening barrier. Make himself immune to her powers of seduction. But why? Why bother. It's not like there's a lovely line of maidens, reputable pedigree or otherwise, throwing themselves at the bastard son of a dead Jotun king. A disgraced prince of two households. Of two realms. A monster in one and a murderer in another. Disowned. Unwanted. Unloved. Unworthy. A stunted freak of nature... Need he go on?

So despite her wicked ways, he finds a small comfort in her arms. For not only is she of the select few who carries with them the knowledge of his false death and resurrection, but she has nary a qualm with embracing such an undesirable creature such as he.

Perhaps he doesn't deserve any better.

"Mayhap I have come to find the job is... _well_... a JOB." He finally relents and confesses to her honestly. "It's taxing. And BORING. Everyone wants something, while I-"

"Are pampered round the clock? Fed the finest of food? Drink? Given the grandest of goods in all the land? Granted anything and everything your blackest heart desires?" Lorelei interjects with playful sarcasm. "Oh poor baby, yes, that sounds absolutely dreadful."

She giggles against his chest and he wonders why he ever even bothered. Like she could possibly understand.

"You are the sole ruler of ASGARD! The Realm Eternal! You can simply APPOINT someone to handle all the... _yucky_ stuff." The Temptress expresses to him. "You have the power to do ANYTHING you wish! You can tax every citizen. Create a towering mountain of gold. Or better yet, have that gold smelted down to erect a massive monument in your honor and place it in the center of town where all can see and worship. You can have a harem of women. A tribute of daughters from every tribe of every realm. You can have an army. A militia the likes of which no world has ever seen, raiding the stars, simply for your fancy. Money. Women. Power. You simply need to dream it to make it a reality. And yet you whine of boredom."

With a sinfully naughty gleam to her eye, the Seductress slowly lowers to her knees so that she may kneel before her lord and master. Clad in illusion, Loki stands towering above her.

"What good are loyal subjects if not to ease thy boredom?" With her lips upon the summit of his inseam, she stares up at him and grins. "My king."


	4. Forbidden Fruit

**FORBIDDEN FRUIT**

He feels dirty. And used. As he always does whenever he and the succubus better known as Lorelei cross paths.

Sure, she's an adequate resource when it comes to releasing his frustrations. Just another pawn in which to take advantage of. She means absolutely nothing to him. And while the act itself may indeed feel great while it lasts, he never quite feels good about himself once the deed is done and both parties have parted. After, he only winds up hating himself even worse. He only ends up feeling more alone. It's as if every time he loses himself in her, he loses an integral piece of himself, as well.

Which only leads Loki to ponder, who's using who.

To think he'd ever lower himself to colluding with whores. Both within the bedroom and without. It sickens him. The Dark Prince couldn't possibly be more disgusted with himself.

And yet he'll keep returning to her. Time and time again. Without hesitation or resistance. With every call she makes upon him, he'll just keep going back for more. More punishment. More self-loathing. More hate. More questions.

These are the thoughts that plague him as he traverses the halls, making his grand escape from the scene of the crime. Head bowed low, he pays little mind to the lords and ladies as they pass. The courteous nod every now and again as someone acknowledges his existence, but for the most part, they leave the false Crimson Hawk alone to continue with his brooding.

So he keeps walking. With the hope that the further and further away he gets from her, the further and further she'll be from his thoughts. The further and further her magic will wane. But the more and more he walks, the more and more he realizes that his mind cannot be cleansed of the taint she's left behind.

Before he even realizes it, he's walked clear across the castle grounds, far off towards the western end near the gardens. Why he'd ever think to come here... Or mayhap he WASN'T thinking. With his thoughts preoccupied elsewhere, he'd found his way completely absentminded and caught so totally unaware. Stopping in his tracks before the garden entrance, Loki lifts his head to gaze out over the lush, green wonder.

This was his mother's garden.

Well... Not his MOTHER, mother. His MOTHER was a Frost Giant who'd likely been exiled from the tribe, or worse, murdered for having born the king of Jotenheim a runt heir. But Queen Frigga, the woman who raised him, this was HER garden. And oh, how she loved it so.

Within these walls of fern and foliage lies a wonderland of vegetation so vibrant and full of life. Flowers bloom in every color imaginable. Each more beautiful and fragrant than the last. Some wild and growing free, while others manicured to perfection. Trees sway gently in the afternoon breeze, their boughs heavy with apples. The finest and most delectable in any and all lands. Birds sing sweetly, perched upon their branches. And in the center of it all, a grand fountain of the most crystalline waters. Azure and sparkling, it's absolutely magnificent.

For their utter lack of intelligence, the Midgardian peasants would refer to this garden as an Eden. But to Loki? To him it feels like coming home.

He takes a step inside the gate, but just a step. It almost feels as if he be a stranger here, trespassing upon this pristine, virgin land. How many years now has it been since last he found himself here? He truly can't remember when. He was a different person. An Odinson. A lie. And now? With him cloaked in the illusion of a different man, he's just as much a lie, still. Perhaps not much has changed. And yet, he finds himself at peace with this. Here, he finds his mind finally at rest. With the birds in the trees and the happy chirping of insects, he's taken with a calm tranquility. A warm and happy feeling he hasn't felt in quite some time.

To think this sacred place had been tended to so meticulously since his mother's passing. He truly had no idea. It's exactly as she'd left it. Like stepping back through time. Untouched by the ravages of the hour and all the anguish of the worlds outside these walls. Perfect and pristine.

All except ONE thing.

A blemish mars the landscape. A dot at the center of his eye. A person. In the far off corner, beneath the oldest apple tree sits a girl. A girl whom very well most certainly does not belong.

Loki grits his teeth.

That's HIS tree. He remembers it well.

While Thor would engage himself with those annoying savages better known as playmates down by the waters edge, fantasizing about Vikings lost at sea or some such nonsense, Loki would reserve himself to the corner, beneath the aged old apple tree which no longer yielded fruit, and read. Alone. Uninterrupted. But there SHE is. And it's HIS tree!

Loki takes another step further into the garden. And another. He squints his eyes to catch a better glimpse of the intruder upon his little plot of land.

Much to his surprise, she really is rather fetching, with her ivory skin and long, flaxen hair. Like a nymph in the wood, she looks so completely one with the elements which surround her. And yet not of this world. An unearthly beauty, indeed.

But despite her loveliness, there's still the simple fact that she doesn't belong here. And while he very well may have let her off with a stern warning, and mayhap an invite to dinner so she may pay him back as an apology for her trespassing, that all but turns to ash the very second she casts her eyes upon him.

Sensing she's no longer alone, the young maiden looks up from the book she'd been reading to take notice of the Commander standing in the garden entryway. And that's when he spots them. Despite the distance, he can see them from miles away. Realms away, even. Those eyes. Those eyes which may haunt his dreams yet. Of the palest blue. Cold like winter. Those same eyes which dared to look upon him when all others would not. Eyes which shared pity and concern for a monster. For him. Eyes which he'd so vowed to gouge should he ever see them again.

Though his stolen face may be a fake, he assures the sword at his side is certainly very sharp and very real. With his hand at its hilt, Loki marches right towards her, practically begging for her to give him a reason to use it.

Watching as he approaches, the pale-eyed woman carefully places a tattered old piece of paper within the pages of the book she'd been reading, thus securing her place, and slowly rises to her feet.

Everything about her is so completely his opposite. Whereas he has taken to the offensive, she's detached and calm. With her hands clasped loosely in the lap of her dress, clutching her book, she brandishes no sword or weapon of any kind. She's completely defenseless. Still, he's just itching to lop that pretty little head of hers off at the neck, if for nothing more than because he's had a bad day. But mainly for that day now long since passed. The day of his trial after his failure and defeat. After his capture on Midgard by that sorry group of so-called heroes. The ultimate embarrassment. And even though she will not recognize this face as being the same man whom she had disrespected so, it's the principle of the matter. Punishment must still be dealt. Loki must still have his vengeance. If she cannot keep her eyes to herself, then he will surely have them. By force.

Sensing his aggression, the woman asks, "Is there a problem, good Commander?"

Loki stops within a foot of her, close enough for him to use his height at his advantage so that he may stare her down. Yet even as he towers nearly one whole head taller than she, the petite flower does not wilt under his harmful gaze. She does not back down. Which is all he could ever hope for. Giving him all the more reason to relieve her of her gilded crown.

"These are the queen's personal gardens, accessed only by the royal family. You have no right in encroaching here." Loki snarls through the commanding Crimson Hawk's deep, gravelly voice.

While most would apologize and claim their fault, she does not. Much to his further growing satisfaction.

"I have permission." She states firmly.

"Permission?" Loki spits. "By whom?"

"The Queen Mother, herself."

A laugh escapes the Shapechanger's lips. He needn't even try, she's digging her own grave. Forget her head. What delight he'll find in removing her tongue for even MENTIONING his mother.

"Queen Frigga is DEAD." Loki points out sharply. "How DARE you desecrate her memory with these lies."

"Just because her majesty has breathed her last, does not mean her word and law has come to pass, as well." The woman eyes him up and down with scrutiny. "Though I see now what the surrounding realms have said as truth. If THIS is what passes as King Odin's elite, than the kingdom has truly found itself in a downward spiral since her passing."

A low blow. Her last. Loki has had just about enough of her and her insolent tongue. As much fun as it has been to play with his kill, it's high time he end it.

His hand tightens around his blade.

"You common piece of filth." He growls low from somewhere deep within his belly. "I will tear yo-"

"Your name, commander." Interrupting, she demands. "Your name so I may inform your lord and king of your rudeness towards his guest."

Again. He can't believe the gall of this woman. He's going to carve her like a roasted hog and still she makes demands.

"Guest!?" He laughs. "The court has no guests."

"I have a meeting with the All-father within the hour." She stands firm. "Now afford me your name."

"The only appointment Lord Odin has this evening is with Sir Ivaldi of Nidavellir. And unless I'm mistaken, you are-"

"Sigyn Ivaldidóttir of Nidavellir." She states nobly and proud. "And I have come on my father's behalf."

Loki takes a step back.

"Ivaldidóttir..." He breathes, though finds all breath has left him.

And another.

"Sigyn?" His voice is but a whisper.

She continues to chastise him, though he cannot hear what she is saying. With all the alarms and bells blaring inside his head, he's completely deaf to her. It's as if all the blood has rushed to his brain. He can feel it whooshing in his ears, a thundering crescendo as his pulse quickens with panic. Loki finds himself lightheaded and dizzy. It feels as if he's been punched in the gut. It feels as if all the nine realms on Yggdrasil's branches have each come crashing down into the void. Like the ground has fallen out from under him. He's falling. And hard.

His knees start to buckle, threatening to give out at a moment's notice. Should a slight breeze blow by, he would surely be toppled over.

Sigyn. HIS Sigyn. Standing here before him. So close, she's little more than an arms length away.

How long has it been? Twenty years? Give or take?

He hadn't even recognized her. How could he not have recognized her? She's gotten older, sure. As even the gods tend to do. But those eyes. How could he EVER have forgotten those eyes? Those eyes which many a night had filled his fevered boyhood dreams with such heated desire. Eyes he yearned to look at him as others would to Thor. Two clear blue pools of the cleanest, purest waters. Glacial cold and invigorating, he'd give anything to swim upon her shores. To gaze upon them is to know true serenity. His life. His crown. His everything, all for just one dip. To immerse himself in them. To drown. They are the very same eyes which not a moment sooner he had so hoped to savagely rip from her skull.

As if it were made of fire, Loki's hand quickly shoots from off his sword.

How could he ever dream to harm her? HER? The only girl to ever hold his heart. The only girl he'd never expected to see ever, EVER again.

When last they'd met, they were but children. While he, on the dawn of manhood, they were still nothing more than babes playing in his mother's garden. THIS garden. Of all the places in all the realms to see her again...

"Are you even listening to me? I asked for your name, Commander." Sigyn demands. "I will not ask again."

He wants to rush her. Take her in her arms and twirl her about. He wants to scream IT'S ME! LOKI! But then remembers he cannot. Loki is dead. And he? He's wearing someone else's skin. Not to mention the long story about being the sole ruler of Asgard. Kinda. So he lies. As he always does. And always will.

"Me? I'm... I'm..."

Oh, Odin's stones, what the hel is his name?! His commanding officer. He sees him every day! They discussed the progress of the latest recruits just earlier this morn...

"THEORIC!"

YES! That's it!

"My name is Theoric."

Stoic as a rock, Sigyn offers a curt nod.

"Well then, Theoric, I'll be sure to inform the All-father of your rudeness. Along with a recommendation of demotion." The maiden replies polite but stern. "Good day."

And with that, she makes her exit. Nose in the air proud and defiant, she's left him completely speechless, which is a rarity for the silver tongue. The man of many words has not a one to say. He's at a loss. His brain still so terribly in shock.

As if in a trance, Loki simply watches as she goes until finally, he realizes that it is HE that she is storming off to meet. So it's time to change out of one skin and into another. To trade that of Theoric for Odin once more. Mayhaps playing king isn't as droll as he'd thought it to be. This day has surely become all the more interesting, indeed! With a lively spring in his step, the Liesmith makes a hasty exit back to the throne room so he may meet with an old friend. For the very first time. Again.


	5. Back To The Beginning

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

A cool breeze blows, cutting through the warm morning sun in Asgard. The branches shake, making the leaves dance to the sprightly sounds of summer.

An ever restless Thor plays down by the fountains edge. Having given up trying to coerce his brother into joining him, he's resigned himself to battling the Frost Giants of his imagination by his lonesome. If only he knew of the true blue Jotun in his very own back yard. If only either of them knew... But for now, Loki hides himself away beneath the cool shade of the aging apple tree, the one in the far corner, furthest from his bothersome brother or any other intruder he may find as a disturbance to his solitude. The perfect spot to relax and read with nothing but the soft, green grass beneath him and the scent of rain rolling over the hills in the distance.

That and the unsettling feeling of being watched...

Little Loki peers up from his reading, curious as to what in the world could have caused him such unease. But when his eyes look out from beyond the pages, he can't help but jump back in a fit of shock.

Two eyes stare back at him. Two big, round eyes of the bluest blue he'd ever did see. Wide and unblinking. Set square on him from only mere inches away.

And attached to those eyes, he finds a little girl. Mayhap between the ages of 6 and 9, about the same as he. Though based on her manner of dress, he can tell she's not royalty just as he is. Or like any of the brats of foreign dignitaries or the lords and ladies his mother and father tend to bring about in hopes of finding the pair of boys a suitable playmate.

One of the servant's children, mayhap? And yet, he somehow doubts it. There's something... _different_ about her. Something he finds instantly captivating. With her pretty pink skin and long, golden hair done up in an elegant braid. She's rather... cute.

Bent at the hip, she leans directly over him as he lies sprawled out on the ground after having hit his head against the tree from the surprise. He'd been so engrossed in his novel, he hadn't heard her approach. Did he scream? Oh gods, he hopes not. But based on Thor's distant laughter, he thinks mayhaps he had.

"I'm sorry." The girl peeps in a tiny voice. "Did I scare you?"

Sitting himself upright, Loki rubs at the back of his head. A slight hiss escapes him from the pain.

"What do you want?"

That came out harsher than he'd wished or expected. It's just that he had no intention of being frightened by some silly girl, a pretty one at that, or to be laughed at by his brother. The tips of his ears burn hot with embarrassment. As does the little girl's cheeks.

"I... I saw you reading." She begins timidly. "And I thought... Might I read with you?"

Loki doesn't answer. Instead, from his position on the ground he looks up at her. Studying her.

What a strange girl, he thinks. How odd. Why in all of Asgard would she wish to spend her time with him? Wouldn't she rather play with Thor? Everyone always does. And yet here she is, patiently waiting for his reply. Speaking of which... Why doesn't he reply? He wants to say OK, but can't. He can't stop staring up into her eyes. Why can't he stop staring up into her eyes? And what's this strange, strange feeling that's overcome him? These butterflies swirling in the pit of his stomach? It's exciting and nauseating and frightening and overwhelming and...

"SIGYN!"

A man calls out from beyond the garden entryway.

"Sigyn, where did you run off to?"

The little girl, now known as Sigyn, breaks her staring match with Loki. Standing, she quickly races towards the voice calling for her.

Curious, Loki peeks his head out from behind the tree in which he's hidden to spy two men entering the garden, one of which is his father and the other, he's not quite sure. He's a short, stout fellow with a rounded face and a large, wooly beard. A Dwarf, likely of the realm Nidavellir, he wears the garb of a craftsman or blacksmith, presumably enough coming upon the castle to trade his wears. And judging by the new sword at father's side, he deals in weaponry. VERY fine weaponry, at that.

And judging even further, yet, it appears he would be the girl's father. Which is strange given that she's nearly taller than he. Surely her mother is of some other descent. Likely Aesir or Vanir, mayhap even Elvin, thus making her a mixed breed. Not exactly frowned upon, but not exactly common, either. She's quite the rare flower.

Loki watches the exchange in secrecy from his hiding place, shrouded in the shade of the fruitless tree. Too far to truly make out words, but close enough to feel the bitter sting of jealously as Sigyn is introduced to his brother, Thor. Like a bull, he bounds right toward her. A surprise he doesn't knock her right over. And after extending to her an awkward, yet courteous bow, she offers him a shy smile and away the pair go, running off to play. Leaving Loki. Alone. Meaning now he can return to his reading. Which is exactly what he wanted. Right? So why then does it anger him so to spy the two of them so happily playing together?

With a bit of a huff, Loki shuts his book and climbs to his feet. His eyes narrow, lips draw tight into a scowl. Balling his fists, he marches himself straight towards his elder brother. And without a second thought, he gives the prince of storms a hard shove.

Caught completely off guard, Thor falls back onto his bottom. Shocked by the unprovoked attack, he looks up at Loki for a moment, but only a moment before the quick-tempered brother jumps to his feet and the two start to tussle.

Odin rushes over to break up the pair of rivaling siblings. Grabbing each by the collar, he practically has to tear them off one another.

"Boys! What is wrong with the two of you?" The All-father booms in a thunderous voice. "In front of our guests, no less!"

"Loki started it!" Thor is quick to point the finger.

"Did not!" Loki is quick to bite back.

"Enough!" With just one word, Odin returns order. Just one word to usher the fear of God into those boys. "It matters not who started the war, I want you to end it. NOW."

All are quiet. The air thick with tension.

"Now apologize to our guests, the both of you."

Head down, Thor grumbles a bitter 'I'm sorry'. Yet Loki says not a word. Instead, he stands transfixed, eyebrows knitted in grief, staring at the little girl who half hides behind her father. She looks about to cry. Those two big doe-like eyes stare back at him, glassy with tears. He'd gotten himself so caught up with trying to win her attention away from his brother, he hadn't realized he'd upset her. Looks like he'd won her attention, alright. But this is not what he had wanted.

Ashamed, the little prince tears his eyes from hers, fixing his gaze, instead, on the lush green grass beneath his feet.

"Loki?" Odin urges sternly.

His father is still expecting an apology, but he cannot find the words. He tries to open his mouth to say something, anything at all, but all that escapes him is a small childlike squeak. Loki chokes back a sob. His chest weighs heavy with regret.

And that's when everything goes blurry. The grass becomes like watercolors, mixing with that of his shoes and the flowers and the sky. Just one big blob of cloudy color, devoid of shape or definition. He can't see past its misty haze.

A tear runs down his cheek.

Loki quickly dries his eyes, wiping the back of his hand across his hot, tear-stained skin. Then, with everyone staring, he darts away, scolding himself for acting so weak as to cry in front of not only his father and brother, but in front of HER.

"Loki!"

He can hear his father shout after him as he races clear across the garden and past the gates. Eyes red and bleary, he doesn't stop until he's sure no one will come after him. Until he's far, far away. Until he's no more tears to cry in him. Until his chest burns and his lungs fill with fire. Only then does he cease his running.

The young prince stops by a cobbled wall, a terrace overlooking a market scene below. Loki hops up, taking a seat, his legs dangling over the edge. He looks down at the book in his lap, and sighs.

"I'm sorry."

His tiny boyish voice is but a whisper, a crackling squeak to be lost upon the breeze and the rabble below had she not been so near behind him.

How long had she followed him? Had she been there the whole time? He hadn't even realized until this moment. Any WHY? WHY would she follow him? Why bother at all? It's not as if he'd been especially kind to her. He'd given her absolutely no reason at all to come seek him out. To WANT to be his friend. And yet here she is. Hands clasping the hem of her daffodil yellow sundress anxiously, she takes a small, albeit brave step towards him.

"Why'd you push your brother?" She asks curiously. "Do you hate him?"

Even with his back to her, he can feel her eyes upon him. They pierce him. Right down to his very soul.

Loki can easily devise an explanation, something intricate and enticing to fill her head with wonder and heart with fancy, but his mouth remains sealed shut. He will not lie to her, though he hasn't any idea why. It's truly beyond comprehension for the little liesmith. So he shrugs. Staring down at his bootstraps, he nibbles at his lip.

"I suppose _I_ wanted to play with you and... and I'm sorry for the way I acted."

What he'd said was no lie, white or otherwise. Not a fib or fabrication, no deception or dishonesty, nothing but the honest and absolute, god-given truth. For the first time in his life, the second time today, Loki, the God of Mischief and Lies had apologized for something. And meant it. Truly, dearly meant it.

Lifting his head, he turns towards her to match eyes. His insidious emerald to her sparkling cerulean. And my, how they shine. How SHE shines.

Basked in the golden hue of the warm, summer sun, she emits a light like no other. A light to drown out the darkness. A darkness such as he. Just one look and his heart's all aglow.

And that's when he realizes. He loves her.

At only nine years of age, with hardly a concept of the word and its meaning, he knows this for certain, he loves her. He'd only just met her, even. Without a kernel of knowledge about the young maiden. And yet her kind eyes say it all. Loki can see it in her soul, Sigyn is everything he's not. She's pure and good and lovely inside and out. And he loves her for it.

Loki wants to grab onto that light and never, ever let it go. He'd gladly live inside her shadow in hopes that one day maybe it would shine down on him and he could feel its sublime warmth, even for just a small sliver of it. He'd appoint himself its guardian, the keeper of the light and flame. God of the fires of her soul. And would surely die should that light in her eyes were to ever be snuffed out. His life should they ever dim or grey.

Such grand thoughts for such a small child. Again, his eyes find the floor. This time not out of shame, but purely blinded by her grace.

"Would you... still care to read with me?" A hint of pink stains his alabaster skin.

She smiles and his heart smiles with her. A nod and she hops up beside him on the wall. Bashful, Loki opens the book and fans through the pages, right back to the beginning, a good place to start. As to the start of their wonderful friendship.


	6. An Evening To Remember

_**How did everyone like seeing Little Loki & Sigyn? Would you like more flashbacks of when they were kiddos?  
Is anyone reading this? I gotta say, 6 chapters in now and not a single review. That's my personal worst!  
Please read and review! ****(Or I'll sick** **Jormungand, the terrible World Eating Serpant after you!)** **xoxo**_

* * *

 **AN EVENING TO REMEMBER**

Through the eyes of Odin, Loki glances towards the grand archway for what must be the twenty-somethingth time this evening.

His meeting with Sigyn had gone well enough. They spoke of politics. His army and guards will be needing new and better equipment, something her family is much skilled at providing. The Brothers Ivaldi are well known and trusted in this field of blacksmithery. But in truth, Loki really had not a care in hearing of her Dwarven brothers. Or weapons. Or war. Or anything at all, really. He paid not much mind to the words that were spoken, but to the way her mouth moved as she spoke them. To the shape and fullness of her rosy, pink lips. The unimaginable softness of her creamy, white skin. And her eyes. Oh gods of gods, how he could lose himself so deeply within her eyes. Daydreaming of days long since past. Of the day when they'd first met. A memory long since forgotten. Pushed to the back of his mind, guarded under lock and key. Devoured by the monster he'd become. He'd sworn himself off such days of old. A better and happier time. But seeing her again has helped him remember. Not only the past, but a small piece of himself as well. A piece he'd thought had died along with the name Odinson. Along with the fall. Not only from the Bifrost, but from grace, as well.

And while the meeting was brief, the arrangement ended with him purchasing... Well, he's not quite sure. Really he would have bought ANYTHING she'd sold him. Would death, itself, be for sale, he'd gladly pay the highest price. But steel and iron held little interest for him. What DID interest him was in making sure to invite her to the great banquet tonight. A great banquet which he'd only just then decided to throw together at the very last second. All so she may honor him with her presence once more. And while she'd been hesitant at first to attend, finally and reluctantly she'd agreed.

So here he is.

Waiting.

Having his ear talked off by some daft countryman of some sort whose breath stinks of ale and whose clothes reek of... What is that? Cheese? All in all, who cares who they are. It matters not. What DOES matter is that on the thirtieth time he finds his gaze wandering towards the front of the grand hall, his eyes FINALLY spot her. And oh, what a marvel she is to behold. His breath hitches in his chest just at the sight of her.

Dressed in golden silk, she shines in a way that does his memories justice. Though it is WORDS that do not do her justice, at all. Lovely and elegant and unworldly and absolutely breathtaking... For how she looks tonight, there simply hasn't been a word or phrase yet invented in ANY language to describe her sheer and ultimate magnificence. She is beauty beyond beauty. One step in the room and all pale before her radiance. The simple fools know not the opulence that walks among them. But Loki does. With eyes of eagles, he stalks her as she makes her entrance.

Sigyn stands in the entryway of the great banquet hall. Surrounded on all sides, she scans the crowd for a familiar face until finally she spies just who she'd been searching for. But it isn't Odin. No. Much to Loki's horror, she's marching herself right towards Theoric. The REAL Theoric.

"Oh, god dung." The Shapechanger mutters beneath his breath.

With a rather rude and abrupt exit, Odin-Loki ends his conversation with the intolerably pungent countryman to rush after the maiden of the hour. Lucky for him, he catches up to her _just_ before the true Crimson Hawk goes and makes a mess of things. All the real Theoric has a chance to spout out is a confused "I'm sorry, who-", before his king interrupts the exchange.

"AH, Lady Sigyn!" Loki begins in his best Odin impersonation. "How glad I am to see you have made it. Now, if it isn't much trouble, I am afraid I must borrow this fine gentleman here for but a moment. So sorry. Shouldn't take long."

Hand to Theoric's back, Loki directs the Commander far from the gala, out into the hallway, unseen by the guests.

"Is anything the matter, my King?" Theoric asks quizzically. His head spins from having been ripped from his dining so quickly.

"No, no. Nothing of the sort." The false king replies. He then goes on to spin a most exquisite lie. "It's just that upon my rounds about the banquet, I happened to overhear of a possible breach in our security."

"I've heard nothing of the sort."

"Are you calling me a LIAR?"

Loki holds in a laugh. Oh, the delicious irony of it all. He puts on his very best angry Odin face, the one and same he's been on the receiving end of on more than one occasion, and revels in how the puffed up Hawk before him suddenly shrinks to a lowly worm.

"N-No, Sire. It's just that... I ASSURE you that our defenses are at their very peak performance." Theoric does his best to smooth his earlier remark over. "You have absolutely nothing to worry about."

Odin nods, much to Theoric's relief.

"Yes, perhaps you are correct. But still, while purely speculation and here-say, it would not hurt to post a few extra guards about the perimeter tonight. The security of Asgard and its citizens is of top priority. Would you not agree, Commander?"

Theoric bows his head formally.

"Of course, my King."

Then, with a rigid stance, he clicks his heels at attention and proceeds down the hall, away from the gala and towards his mockery of a mission, never the wiser that such orders were given by a snake in king's clothing. He leaves Loki to gloat in his trickery. And to assume his much pleasing form.

It's something the Prince of Lies had come up with on the spot, not at all something he'd intricately planned or devised. A scheme that nearly came apart at the seems had he not plucked Theoric away sooner. Nor is it a scheme that he has any inkling of an idea where its road may lead him. He's simply winging it as it goes, so to speak. Which is quite very atypical of his style, but is nonetheless exciting. For as lovely as she appears tonight, he can't very well approach her looking like a bloated, old, has-been of a king, can he? No. Odin is like a second father to her, and that is _not_ the sort of relationship he seeks to pursue with the fair maiden. Though what kind of relationship he _does_ seek to pursue... That is a question not even _he_ has the answer to. All he knows is that he can't lose her again. He NEEDS to see her. For that he is certain. And if he can't see her as Loki, then this gallant frock will do.

So he re-enters the banquet hall, this time in the guise of Theoric, making sure to grab two goblets of Elven wine from a barmaid as he makes his approach to the fair maiden who has been waiting ever so patiently for his return. A tap on the shoulder and she turns to be greeted by his dashing smile.

"Is everything alright?" She asks demure.

"But of course. The Allfather simply sought to inform me, should anyone ask, that he has retired for the evening." Loki lies through Theoric's teeth. "He sends his deepest apologies as he truly did look forward to your company this evening."

Remembering the goblet of wine, he extends his offering towards her.

"Here. This is for you, m'lady." He presents, to which she accepts. "Consider this my olive branch."

The silver chalice weighs heavy in her hand as well as her heart. Staring into the depths of its drink, she can't help but blush ever so slightly.

"There is no need for such a peace offering." Sigyn says quietly, almost embarrassed.

"But I must!" Loki protests, feigning heroic. "My approach earlier was completely-"

"Called for." She interjects.

Loki's taken aback. He hadn't expected to be let off the hook so easily.

He'd been so completely rude to her. Hel, he'd wanted to tear out her eyes! He'd longed for such unspeakable horrors! Not that she had any knowledge of that one little detail, of course. But, still... Nonetheless, he'd been so terribly TERRIBLE! How could she possibly forgive his actions when he can't find forgiveness in himself?

Sigyn sighs.

"Should anyone need apologize for their actions, it is I." She says solemnly. "I cannot blame you for simply doing your job. Tis not as if you knew who I was or what allowances were afforded me by the late queen. You were guarding your post and I was out of line."

She runs a hand through her pale, golden hair, tucking a strand behind one of her ears.

"Truth be told, the travel here has left me weary. I find no joy in returning to this place, but the trip could not be avoided. The only reason I even agreed to come to this banquet tonight was so that I might have the chance to apologize to you for my actions earlier. I'd taken my grievances out on you and I can only hope you can forgive me." Sigyn hands Loki back his undrunk goblet. "So I thank you for the olive branch, but it is unneeded. May you have a pleasant evening, Theoric, and again, my apologies."

The maiden turns to leave, but Loki is quick to stop her. Without a thought, instinctively, he reaches for her and grabs hold of her arm. Surprise touches her eyes. To this, he swiftly retracts his arm away. The prince hadn't meant to startle her with his rather bold action. In truth, he's just as surprised as she.

"Please don't go."

Had he begged? His voice sure sounds as such. Loki, he who begs for nothing, begs for her to stay. Not wishing to sound so hopelessly desperate, he clears his throat and tries again.

"I mean, if you truly wish to apologize, then you would afford me the privilege of your company this evening." Again, he offers her the rejected cup. "Please, stay and have a drink with me."

He lays on the charm and lays it on thick, tilting his head and presenting her with the very best puppy dog eyes that Theoric's visage can afford him. In turn, she is swayed. With a heavy sigh, she relents and reaches for her goblet of wine.

"Fine... Just one drink." Sigyn abides with the hint of a smirk.

"Just one drink." Theoric-Loki repeats.

Never mind the fact that the drink is bewitched to never run dry. But that's neither here nor there. He only wishes to commune with her, and now one drink shall turn into hours of conversation. Well past daybreak and straight into morning. A whole lifetime worth of words. An eternity. But first, if he wishes to have any exchange at all, he must take the first step. Begin at the beginning with introductions.

"So... Sigyn?" He begins. "Odin tells me you used to frequent the castle often in your youth. You were friends of Prince Thor?"

"And Prince Loki." She's quick to correct.

It takes everything in him to swallow down the pride he feels, the warmth that she would still consider him her friend. Even after everything. Certainly after she'd seen him at his lowest, clad to the teeth in chains.

"Aye. My father would bring me to the castle every summer." Sigyn adds, her voice touched with nostalgia. "The royal family, they took me in with open arms, allowed me to stay with them while my father took work for the season. It was like a second home to me. And I became such very good friends with their boys."

She stares down into her drink, her eyes smiling but sad. Loki takes note.

"It sounds as if you had a very pleasant childhood here." He remarks. Leaning down closer to her, he tilts his head as if studying her features. "Why, then, does it bring you no joy in coming back here? If this was your home, then why such sadness?"

"Because my home lies empty."

Her answer is so honest, it hurts. She lifts her head to look him in the eye and he can literally _feel_ her sorrow. He recognizes it. That emptiness. That loneliness. He knows it because he feels it too. Her eyes are his own.

"There is nothing left for me here." Sigyn continues. She takes a sip of her drink. "Only empty promises and faded memories. Nothing but ghosts."

It breaks his heart. Which he didn't even know he had one in which to break. Certainly not one _worth_ breaking. And yet it breaks for her.

Loki want so badly to ease her pain, to say ' _I'M_ here', but he cannot. All he can say is, "Odin's still here for you, I'm sure."

This makes her smile, but not the warm and happy smile he was so hoping. Only more sadness.

"Please... I do not wish for this to get back to him. Promise me you will not tell the Allfather."

"I promise."

A lie. Little does she know this information will not only get back to 'Odin', but that she's flat out telling it right to his face.

"I think that Odin's memory might be slipping in his age." Sigyn confides seriously. "He may not be fit for rule much longer."

This puzzles Loki. He'd thought their meeting went more than well. That his impression of the king was spot on.

"Why would you say that?"

She takes another healthy sip of her drink, then shakes her head and sighs.

"Because he'd invited my FATHER to the castle. Not my brothers. Not I. My father."

"Should that have any significance?"

Sigyn arches a brow and stares at him deeply.

"He knows as well as I, my father is dead."

Wide-eyed, this takes Loki aback. He truly had no idea, which is why ODIN had no idea.

"I'm sure Odin is very well aware." Loki does his best to cover his lies. "It simply must have slipped his mind, what with all the turmoil of the kingdom and his own personal struggles and whatnot."

He smiles, trying his best to reassure her. His back molars grate hard into more of a grimace than a grin.

Loki truly doesn't enjoy lying to her. But what can he do? He can't very well tell her that HE'S Odin. That HE didn't know her father had passed. That HE'S parading around in another man's skin. His lies are snowballing, but he's yet to lose control. He's got this.

"My deepest condolences, m'lady. I truly had no idea." At least in this there is truth. "If I might be so bold to ask, how did he pass?"

Another sip. This one a gulp. He can tell she's trying to finish her drink, as well as their conversation, but has yet to understand just how fruitless that would be.

"The Dark Elf invasion." Sigyn replies deadpan. "He was here when the palace walls were breached. I'm told he died with valor."

His heart sinks further yet.

"It would seem we have very much in common." Loki replies honestly. "My mother was lost to me that day, as well."

He takes a hearty sip, as well, if nothing more than to gulp down the lump forming in the back of his throat.

The Dark Elf invasion. A day of infamy. One that haunts him even still. Try as he might, he can never forget it. Plaguing him like a cancer. Eating away at his mind. How it nearly drove him insane. Thinking of her. Frigga. Mother. Dying. Alone. As he sat safe, rotting in a cell.

Did she feel pain? Did she suffer? Has she found peace? The woman who bared him not, yet cared for him as if he were her own. Who'd held him tight and sung to him when he was scared. Who tended to him when he was sick. Who loved him. Yes. He can accept that now. She DID love him. And try as he might, however lost within the darkness he'd become, he loved her ever still.

"Many good souls were lost that day." Loki breathes into his drink.

"Aye." Sigyn replies in kind. "Many souls, indeed."

Much to her surprise, a tear runs down her cheek. Though quick to wipe it away, she isn't quick enough. Loki's head turns to her attention. Sigyn turns her head away.

"I'm sorry. I had no mean to burden you. I promised you a drink and I've hardly had a drop." She apologizes, noticing her still very full cup. "I'm afraid I'm not much for company this evening. Please, forgive me, but I should really be on my way."

Against his better judgement, Loki reaches out to return her face his way. He cups her cheek, his thumb tracing along her bottom lashes to wipe away her tears.

"You are absolutely not a burden." He says comforting and low. "Never think that."

A deep rouge stains her chest as well as face and yet he does not let her go. His hand still lingers on her cheek, his thumb softly stroking her soft skin.

Their eyes lock. His so strong and sure, they gaze so deeply into hers. So intimately. A hint of green shines through Theoric's muddy umber. A hint of his true self breaking free of the cracks in his veneer.

And so she stares back, as if noticing this semblance. It brings her peace and comfort. While normally, should anyone other, stranger or not, try to touch her this way, she'd protest. It isn't proper. But with him... She can't quite put her finger on it, but with him, she feels something so familiar. And she likes it.

"I'm the one to blame." Loki says soft but seriously. "I've ruined your evening."

"Nay." She objects, but he will not hear of it.

He'd wanted so badly for this night to be something special, something wonderful for her, an evening to remember, but all he's accomplished is in making her cry. Something he'd swore to never do ever again. Directly or not.

"You have been an absolute pleasure. Which is such a delightful surprise considering our earlier encounter." Sigyn assures deeply. "I had only planned on making my apologies and retreating to my chambers for the remainder of the evening, but you have truly made my trip a memorable one. You see I leave in the morning and-"

"What?"

 _WHAT!?_

"Well... Yes. I've been given orders by the king, therefor I must return to my brothers so that they may begin work."

"And that cannot wait a week? A DAY at best?"

Sigyn laughs.

"You'd leave the Allfather waiting?"

No. No. No. This will not do at all. He'd only just reunited with her for her to be taken from him again? So soon?

And so a plan swirls into motion. A new determination fills his veins.

"Then if tonight is all we have, then tonight is all we've got." Loki says with a grin, twisting Theoric's lips into such a mischievous one to match his own.

"Come. Let us away." He continues with an excitement he hasn't felt in ages. "I cannot rightfully let you leave Asgard with such sad and grievous memories. No. We shall make NEW ones! Better ones! So, come! Let us howl at the moon! The night is ours!"

He takes her by the hand to lead her from the banquet hall, away to the unknown. And where he leads, she follows. Without question. Though she can't explain it, she'd follow wherever he dare go.


	7. Trust Me

**TRUST ME**

Hand in hand, Sigyn and Loki, under the guise of the Crimson Hawk Theoric, escape the festivities of the banquet meant to be in her honor. Far, far away they flee. Outside the castle walls, where civilization meets the sea. She's kept her drink, and he, his. Laughing, they traverse the harsh landscape. Down by the water's edge, they stake their claim upon the jetties.

Loki wishes he could use his magic, conjure up a blanket to lay upon the hard surface of the shoreline. But since he cannot without giving himself away, they opt to sit atop the rocky coast.

Her gilded dress turns dark with seawater, its damp stain rising up the hem from which it dragged along the beach. Sitting with her legs hanging over the edge of the jetty, Sigyn hikes up her long skirt to her knees to keep the material from becoming soaked even further with more water, much to her male acquaintance's enjoyment.

There was a time, before the fall, where he may have been more private with his wants and needs. While growing up, Thor had always been the one to openly express his desires. Always the more rowdy of the two, he was a man shouting atop mountains, whereas Loki had always been the more quiet and reserved. His feelings hidden deep down in the valley of the mountain's shadow. His desires unknown and therefor unanswered. Anything he'd ever attained was through trickery and deceit. Through smoke and mirror and lies.

And yet here he sits conflicted. If his fall had taught him anything, if his invasion of Midgard had taught him anything at all, it is this. TAKE. Take what you so desire. Take what is yours. Take with abandon. Take till it hurts. Till it bleeds. Till you've had your fill. And then, when all is said and done, when there's nothing left to take, go and take and take some more. But he cannot take her. Not by force.

The object he so desires is so close all he need do is simply reach out and grasp her. Take her. Make her his. But this is Sigyn. Sweet, lovely Sigyn. His childhood friend. His soul. So what can he do? He wishes to claim rule to her heart, but not as a tyrant. Not against her will.

Loki has grown so accustomed to forcing those lesser to bend to his design. To bend till they break. But he will not break her. Though it goes against everything he has become, he refuses. She will not kneel. Nor shall he ever ask her to.

So he sits beside her, hands in his lap like a child having been told not to touch the cookies in the jar. He's nothing more to do than watch. Watch and pine in painful longing.

With his eyes upon her, he soaks in the sight of her lovely pale skin. Her legs sticky with salt and sand. Ivory white, they glisten like stardust beneath the moonlit sky. Though his head remains straight forward, his eyes wander ever upward. The maiden takes notice of his sly ogling and gives him a hard shove, breaking him of his spell and soliciting a jovial laugh from the shifty Shapechanger.

And so they sit and sip wine, looking out over the horizon as dusk turns to night. Marveling at the blackness of space and its vastness. How it seems to melt away, becoming one with the sea. In companionable silence, they take solace in each other's company. The steady sound of the waves crashing upon the beach is all they need for conversation. It's rolling comfort drowning out the buzz of the city of godly wonders nearby.

A spray of seawater kisses the air, making Sigyn shiver. Built for the cold, Loki feels not a thing. No frigid chill could ever penetrate his thick, Jotun hide. So as a gentleman would, in an act of pure chivalry, he removes the red cape from his Crimson Hawk armor and drapes it about the fair maiden's shoulders, thus protecting her from the elements. Warm at last, she pulls the material tight around herself and smiles in thanks.

Poking a hand out, she brings her wine glass to her lips and takes a sip. Then, without explanation, scoots in close to lay her head upon Theoric's broad shoulder. Never does she turn to look at him, just continues staring out across the water, casually sipping her drink. It's as if it comes naturally to her. As if she's so totally and completely comfortable with him. And while Loki's spine straightens at first in the sheer shock of it all, he too finds himself melting. Content beside her, he lays his head softly atop hers, as well. His chest heavy, he sighs.

"This is exactly what I'd needed." Sigyn begins with a soft smile. "I've never found myself much for such gatherings. Thank you for this."

Loki smiles along with her.

He'd put such energy into making such a gathering for her that he'd never stopped to think if it was even truly what she'd wanted. He paid no mind to her likes and dislikes, but to his own. It was the very sort of event that HE had wanted. Because HE wanted to show off for her. HE wanted to impress her. With grand abundance and royal frivolity. With drink and food and fancy dress and sheer excess. Which had always been his style, but never hers. She'd always preferred the simpler things, the more _honest_ things in life.

"I hated you, you know. Earlier in the garden." She continues gently. "I'd even thought of killing you."

A laugh escapes him. Well, he certainly wasn't expecting that!

"I can't say I didn't deserve it." He begins, amused. Hel, he MORE than deserved it, calling her common filth and all. "It's a recurrent emotion, I've found, when first meeting me. I can be rather... _abrasive_. An acquired taste to most."

"Oh, the word 'abrasive' does not do you justice, Sir Theoric." Sigyn says with a grin.

"And what would you call me, then?" He asks impishly, on the verge of flirting.

"An ass."

Again, he laughs. Full and hard.

Loki can't recall the last time anyone has ever called him as such. Certainly not to his face and certainly not one who'd lived. Her candidness is refreshing.

"So, what made you change your mind?" The Trickster further inquires. He simply must know.

To this, Sigyn laughs in return, then takes another sip of her wine.

"Who says I've changed my mind?"

Sitting beside him, she looks up at him, her eyes filled with such mirth it makes his heart sing. She then settles down with a sigh and a shrug, resting her head back on his shoulder.

"In truth, I really can't say." The maiden reveals. Her voice sounds so far away, like she's searching for an answer. A lost feeling. A memory. "I guess, I really can't explain it. I can't quite put my finger on it, but you remind me of someone."

This time she sits upright. Hugging her knees, she places her chin down upon them and tilts her head just ever so slightly to the side as she looks him square in the eye. It's as if she's trying to see through him. Past his exterior to some hidden mystery within. Though to what, she's not sure.

"I feel as if I've known you all my life." She confides honestly. So honest, in fact, that as soon as it is said, she regrets it. "I mean... We've only just met. I know that. But... I feel as if I KNOW you. I know how strange that sounds..."

Even beneath the darkened sky, Loki can see her blushing. That subtle hint of red, so striking a pop of color in this world of night. Beneath the moon and stars above, everything appears as black and white, yet she is contrast. She is cast in a light all her own.

Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, Loki reels Sigyn back towards him. Again, she lays her head on him and he, on her. This instantly puts her at ease.

"Tis not strange at all." The Liesmith replies in all truth. For it is, after all. The truth. "I feel the same way."

Silence returns, with only the gentle roll of the waves crashing along the shores to once again fill their heart-to-heart chatter. But it isn't awkward, at all. No. It's the opposite of that. It's peaceful. Serene. Sitting here beside her with one arm wrapped around her tight and his nose buried in her hair, he realizes all over again, he loves her. With every breath he takes he falls in love with her over and over again. So warm, he breathes her in deeply. The bitter sting of saltwater mixed with the invigorating scent of lemongrass tea. Herbal and sweet. So fresh. So alive. And as he looks down at her gilded crown, he can't help but think how beautiful she is tonight. Even with her sodden dress and beach-tressed hair, she's a marvel to him.

He wants so bad to kiss her. That urge to take what he wants returning now more than ever. But he will not give in to the crazed little voices in his head. Instead, he listens to his heart. And his heart tells him to be patient. A word not readily known to the Trickster God of Lies. But still, he listens and obeys.

"One more day."

The words escape his lips without a thought. It's not a question, nor demand, but a request.

"Please. Tell me you'll stay one more day."

Loki can feel her shift uneasily beneath him, but he refuses to let her go. He _cannot_ let her go. Not if he can help it.

"I assure you, the King will not mind a single, solitary day. I'm sure he won't even notice." He continues on, coaxing her with his words. "His order can wait but one day more. Such a small span of time matters for not in the grand scheme of things, anyway. Trust me."

He can practically hear her gears turning. Thinking. Weighing. And finally relenting. Surrendering to him.

"Fine." She breathes with a heavy sigh. "One more day. But then I really must be going."

"Of course."

With his face deep in her hair, he hides the most widest of smiles possible. Trying his ultimate best to contain his elation.

That's three times now. Three times total he's swayed her mind. Four if you count her decision to not kill him!

The first was her acceptance to come to the party. The second was in joining him here on the beach. And the third is in staying an extra night.

His silver tongue has won this day for it's earned him more time with his Sigyn. More time to acquaint themselves and get to know one another. To let friendship bud and the seeds of love bloom. To scheme. For Loki knows all this can't be accomplished in a single day or night. No. He'll have to come up with more and more reasons to permit her to stay.

He's made up his mind. He's decided. The road may still be hazy, but his path is true. He WILL have her as his own. He WILL lay claim to her heart. And thus, she WILL love him. But not through his usual means, no. They'll be no magic spells or bewitched scepters. No trickery nor lies. Well... Maybe a few. But in the end, should he have her, the decision will be hers and hers alone. It's a long road, but the goal is a worthy one. She shall be his.


	8. Dirty Magic

**DIRTY MAGIC**

Dizzy with drink, somehow both Loki and Sigyn make it back to their respective rooms. It was an ungodly hour and he'd nearly had to carry her, but they'd made it, giggling all the way.

Now standing outside her door, he wishes her goodnight and it takes everything within him not to take a step inside her chamber. With that glazed, come-hither look and that lazy, tired smile as she rests her head against the doorjamb, his drunk-addled brain wants so badly to ravage her. To spend what wee hours there be left before the sun arises curled up in her arms, making love until dawn. Tender and slow. Worshipping her as the goddess she is. Exploring every peak and valley. Every inch of her delicate skin. So creamy and smooth, he yearns to swipe his silver tongue along her inner...

Loki screws his eyes tight, vanquishing such enticing thoughts inside his head.

Instead, he bows himself low. Taking her hand in his, he draws the tops of her knuckles so gently to his lips. He then bids her farewell and withdraws to his room, ODIN'S room, humming the entirety of the walk.

With his head in the clouds, he hasn't a care in the realm. He's in absolute heaven, should there ever exist such a world. So completely at bliss. So completely off his guard.

So when he opens the grand doors and steps foot in his chamber, he thinks not a thing as he begins to undress. Shedding the skin of Theoric for that of his own, Loki removes his shirt and armor, letting them fall where they may. Though, he keeps hold of his jacket. That long leather duster which hangs well past his knees. Black as midnight with intricate gold and green lining. Such a heavy thing. So dreadful, yet elegant just the same. Just as he.

Taking the garment in his hands, he brings it to his face, breathing it in. Breathing HER in.

Having been transformed into Theoric, he'd fashioned his jacket into that of a cape. The same cape which had wrapped so tight and warm around her body. Which now holds her scent, mingled with his own. A symphony of the two combined. Her sweet notes to his more rugged undertones. It's an absolute ecstasy to inhale.

Loki closes his eyes and breathes deep, finding his way to the bed on pure instinct. Visions of her dance inside his head. Scenes of the night replay in memory across the backs of his eyelids. That feeling of her held within his arm. Her skin against his. Her scent. Her laugh. Her mirth-filled stare... His heart's so full it may burst.

He's in love.

The monster who'd denounced such feelings. Who's one and only desire was the fear and admiration of a whole entire race now wants nothing more than the love and affection of one. One woman who means more to him than all the power and glory in any and all realms. My, how things have changed. How HE'S changed.

It's not until he falls back onto his bed, enveloped in the soft comfort of silk sheets and thick furs, that he realizes he's not alone. In his room OR his bed.

His eyes shoot open.

"Hello, lover."

That voice. Who else, but that voice? He recognizes it instantly. Loki's lovestruck, drunken haze sobers instantly.

"Get out of my bed, whore."

His voice is a guttural growl. A hiss. A warning. Chilling as only a true Frost Giant could utter something so cold and heartless.

Lorelei huffs and sits up in his bed. The silhouette of her naked body outlined by the moon seeping in through the terrace windows.

"That's mean. AND rude." She whines. "Not even a 'hello' back?"

"NOW!" Loki shouts, enraged.

The room literally turns cold, frigid with his Jotun rage. To this, Lorelei grabs a fur throw and wraps it around her body, concealing herself from his foul, frigid mood.

"Fine!" She shouts in return, hopping down off the bed. "Must you really be so loud?"

The Liesmith's hands shake. He holds one out to catch it turn from blue back to its usual state. Even in the darkened room, the change of color is apparent. He'd gotten himself so riled up and angry, he'd forgotten himself, reverting to his Jotun self. The monster.

With a deep breath, he calms himself, resorting to run his outstretched hand through his slick, inky hair.

"Lorelei, dear?" Loki begins in an eerily composed tone, though it still shakes with a hint of anger. "Why must you feel so inclined as to sneak into my chambers and crawl into my bed AFTER I had SPECIFICALLY instructed you to NEVER meet with me on castle grounds?"

The Seductress pouts.

"I was lonely."

The Trickster sighs.

"So go be lonely someplace else." Loki snarls. "Troll the beer halls. Some halfwit drunkard is sure to pick you up. I truly care not what or WHO you do tonight, just leave me be."

The Siren has never been one to not get what she'd wanted. Never one to have ever been told 'no'. And yet despite all this, she seems to be taking his rejection rather well. With a sexy jut to her hip and a smoldering gaze, Lorelei simply turns up the heat in which to melt his frigid heart. She turns up the magic.

"I saw you, you know." She says with a velvety purr. "At the party."

With a walk that could kill, the Temptress slinks her way over. Swaying her hips to and fro as she bridges the gap between them.

"You were dressed as that COMMONER again and you were chatting up some girl."

Loki turns his back on her but that doesn't stop her advance.

"I didn't get a very good look, but I could tell she was pretty." Lorelei continues with a touch of disgust to her tone. "I suppose in a RUSTIC sort of way."

He can feel her just behind him at his back. She presses herself against him, forming herself with the curves of his lean musculature and spine.

Lorelei hugs her arms around his torso, releasing her grip on the furs she'd had wrapped around her naked form. Loki listens to the soft thud as they fall to the floor.

"I had no idea you fancied blondes."

With a knitted brow and clenched jaw, he balls his fists and continues staring forward, refusing to pay the Seductress any mind at all. But she's not playing fair.

Her naked flesh caresses his bare back. Soft breasts press firmly against him as she runs a hand along his gaunt abdomen.

"Where did the two of you run off to so quickly?"

Fingers sweep nimbly across his navel, gliding ever lower. Following the trail of coarse hairs down his belly.

Loki closes his eyes and concentrates on his breathing. For most men, all Lorelei need do is speak her magic and her desires become their own, but for the few such as Loki, the strong-willed and stubborn, her magic requires a more hands-on approach.

"Did you rut her behind the servant's quarters? Fill her head with promises you have no intent on keeping? Did you tell her that you loved her? Swear you'd make her an honest woman? LIE to her? Oh, Loki, you filthy dog! I bet you did!"

He can feel her dirty magic swirl within him as she slides a hand down the front of his pants. Soft fingers take hold of the slumbering serpent, coaxing it to wake. Fingers too soft to have ever known the merit of a hard day's work. A palm so smooth to have ever gripped tight a sword. Tis the hand of the pampered. The spoiled and rotten. Not like Sigyn's. Whose palm is rough and fingers calloused. Built strong from summers full of climbing trees and picking daisies in the meadows by the hillside. From gathering wild blackberries under the hot midday sun to chasing faeries down in the glens. From all the endless afternoons and all their timeless adventures... All Loki need do is think of her and Lorelei's spell is cast useless.

Loki opens his eyes to that of angry slits and glares straight ahead at the wall, still refusing to look at her.

"Remove your hand from my person lest I shall remove it for you."

He can feel her grin against his skin turn to that of a sneer. Still, she does as she's told. Taking a step back, she retrieves the fur blanket from the floor.

"You resist me?"

"Does that come as a surprise?" Feet firmly in place, Loki turns his head her way. "You sicken me."

Down but not out, the Temptress is not one to give up. Coming around to his front, Lorelei magically changes her appearance into Sigyn. Much like Loki can alter his shape to that of Odin or Theoric, so can Lorelei play this game.

"Mayhap you find this form more suited to your tastes." Lorelei purrs through Sigyn's lips. "How do I look?"

She's a mockery. A dark mirror's reflection. Whereas Sigyn is pure, honest and sweet-natured, Lorelei is anything but. To wear her innocent face is an act of treachery. Tis lewd and obscene. A disgrace upon her goodly name. It makes Loki see red. He's infuriated to no end.

Dressed in the maiden's skin, Lorelei lays one small hand on Loki's chest, glancing up at him in a seductive manner. But much to her surprise, he doesn't succumb to her wiles. Instead, he grabs hold of her hand and twists it painfully backward.

Her body twists and contorts in agony. Bent back, she falls to her knees, completely at his mercy as he overtakes her with brute force. Then, when he's sure he's made his point of dominance, when he can see the pleading fear deep in her eyes, he backhands her hard across the face, sending her reeling. She slides across the marble floor.

"Consider this a warning. Lay hands on me again and it shall be your last." Loki instructs sternly. "I'd advise you to listen this time."

Crimson red leaks from her mouth, it shimmers like rubies as it pools about her crumpled form. With a hiss, she raises a hand to her wounded lip.

Lorelei glares up at Loki through Sigyn's cold, blue eyes. A wave of green magic washes over her, returning the sorceress to her original form.

"And should you dare disrespect the fair Lady Sigyn again with such vulgar imitations, know that you shall suffer a fate worse than death."

A laugh bursts it's way from out of Lorelei's lips. It can't be contained.

"Odin's ravens! Are you serious, man?" The witch cackles. "Loki! Please tell me you do not harbor FEELINGS for this woman!"

Loki says nothing, but glares at the Temptress. To this she laughs further.

"You do, don't you! You desire her." Lorelei taunts, running her tongue over the front of her teeth, stained red with blood. "I dare say you even LOVE her. Am I correct? Love..."

Disgusted with the word, Lorelei spits at the ground as she climbs to her feet.

"You sad, sad little creature. Such an emotion is better built for a man. And you? You are nothing but a sorry excuse for an animal PRETENDING to be a man." Lorelei snickers in her saccharin sweet voice. "What hope have you should she ever learn the truth? You think that she could ever LOVE you for what you truly are? Or do you plan on remaining as that foul commoner for the rest of your days? Relinquish your throne for a life of service? Marry? Make babies?" Her laughter echoes about the mausoleum-esque room. "Could you imagine what the midwives would say? Expecting mum to push out a little precious pink Aesir, and instead out pops a revolting blue abomination! Do you think she'll take such a creature to her breast? Or do you think she'd abandon the beastlie as your mother did y-"

"ENOUGH!" Loki shouts abruptly, cutting her off.

Though he won't physically show it, he finds himself shaking again, her words having cut him to the core. They've certainly touched a nerve. A very sensitive subject, indeed.

"Enough..." He repeats himself, this time softer and calmed.

The Dark Prince would kill her for her tongue, he would. If only she hadn't a sister twice as powerful as she and equally as vindictive. To take on one would not be easy, even at his best, but two? Maybe if he gave it his all, but not without going unnoticed. And certainly not without laying waste to half the palace grounds. At the very least. If he's lucky. With three of the most magically-inclined powerhouses going at it balls to the wall, more than likely, they're looking at the complete and total annihilation of all of Asgard. So while he'd love nothing more than to eliminate her with extreme prejudice, it wouldn't be in his best interest. Not yet, anyway. For now, it's best to play nice. To breathe and calm himself. To remember his lay-in-wait nature, for now's not the time to strike. But Odin help her if she pushes him one more time...

"Leave my presence at once." Loki urges, pointing towards the door. "And be sure you're not seen."

Collecting her things, the clothes she'd shed before slithering into his bed, Lorelei begins her walk of shame home.

"You shall live to regret this." She mutters pointedly beneath her breath.

"And may you die of syphilis first." Loki extends in feigned kindness.

Being sure to open the door for her in an all too fake gentlemanly manner, he's more than sure to make a point of slamming it on her ass. A proper sendoff for a proper annoyance.

* * *

 _ **A/N: If you can't tell, I REALLY dislike Lorelei, both in the comics and MCU. Sorry any Lorelei fans, there'll be no love here! :P**_

 _ **You know what DOES need love, though? This story! Please send your reviews! xoxo**_


	9. Sweet Spot

**SWEET SPOT**

Loki's encounter with Lorelei has left him both physically and emotionally exhausted. He'd never expected her words to have affected him as they had or to have hurt him so badly. She knew exactly where to aim in which to cause the most damage. Sticking her dirty little fingers in the wound, applying just the right amount of pressure and watching him suffer.

How dare she play him like that. The Siren simply must be removed. Mayhap put back in her cage? That is if killing her is still not an option. But of course now that the proverbial Pandora's Box has been opened, how does one expect to put the horrors back in? It would seem a visit with her sister is in order. But for now? Now, for the love of all that is Loki, the Trickster just wants to rest.

He falls back into bed, but he cannot fall asleep. Where once his head was filled with the fanciful scent of Sigyn has all but been replaced with HER. Lorelei. It sticks to his sheets like a cancer, spreading to everything she'd touched with her revolting, acrid stench. Completely disgusted, Loki sits back up. He'll have to have the maids replace the sheets in the morning. And burn them. Until then, it looks as if he won't be doing much resting this night.

So instead, he climbs to his feet and lazily walks towards the wash basin, dragging the heels of his palms groggily down his face with a groan. Once there, he stands over the large bowl of clean water, hands to either side of the pedestal as he hangs his head low. He stays like that for a moment, just staring off into the water, at one with his reflection. And after a moment, he reaches his hands in and splashes water to his face. As cold as ice, it drips off his nose and down his neck, falling in neat little droplets upon the water's surface. Again he dips his hands in. This time leaning back, he rakes his wet fingers through his jet-black hair, slicking it back.

Loki certainly feels more refreshed than he had, a bit more clean after Lorelei had touched him, for sure.

He doesn't towel himself off, just lets the cool liquid run down his back and shoulders. The rest drip back into the basin as he leans himself again over the bowl, once more staring at his reflection, this time distorted from all the ripples the droplets make. With each drop, his face distorts worse and worse. Changing him into someone he doesn't quite recognize. SomeTHING perverse.

A cold, Jotun breath escapes his lips, turning the surface of the water to ice. It creaks and groans as it freezes, starting in the center and working its way out to the edges. Frost climbs its way up the bowl, turning its natural coloring to a stark, frigid white.

With the palm of his hand, Loki clears the surface of its frost, leaving the ice pure and clean. Making it such the perfect looking glass for scrying. He's not even sure what exactly prompted him to do so, but he just HAS to see her again. If anyone were to ask, Loki would say he'd needed a palette cleanser after his run-in with the witch Lorelei, but the truth of the matter is, he simply just misses her. His soul. His Sigyn. Lorelei had offered him a cheap knockoff, but Loki desires the real thing.

A simple viewing spell and she's in his sights. Or at least she WOULD be had she been in bed as he'd expected, but she's not. Instead, her chamber room lies empty with not a soul in sight.

The Prince begins to panic. If she's not in her room then where the hel is she? He immediately begins setting about a locator spell, which isn't at all easy since he hasn't a single belonging of hers. He's absolutely searching blind, scrying each and every hallway, worrying what could have possibly happened. Each possibility more worrisome than the last.

Lorelei had clearly stated upon her exit that he would live to regret his decision to refuse her. A threat not to be taken lightly. Mayhap she'd already made good on her word by hurting Sigyn.

Maybe she's been kidnapped and is holed up somewhere. Held hostage and submitted to the worst torture imaginable. Who knows what that sick sorceress is capable of.

Or maybe Sigyn simply just left him. Somehow, Loki feels this would be worse than all the torture in the world.

If she'd been taken, then it's simply a matter of getting her back. And punishing those involved, of course. But if she'd left on her own accord? Snuck out in the middle of the night without even a goodbye? And after she'd already agreed to stay an extra day. Well, that can only mean one thing. That she doesn't feel the same way as he and wishes to rid herself of him at once. To flee from him as quick as possible. Just as Lorelei had said she would. Abandon him. For how could he possibly expect her to love him? Monster or not, he's undeserving of such things.

Finally his scrying mirror catches sight of her reflection. Just the back of her as she ducks into an open doorway. The pantry of all things.

"What in the name of Laufey's Big And Tall stores?" Loki mutters to himself.

With an arched brow, he's clearly confused. If she didn't leave and she wasn't taken, then what could she possibly be doing sneaking out of her room so late at night?

Retrieving his shirt and jacket, he heads for the door. A bit of magic and he changes his appearance back into Theoric.

A quick sprint across the palace grounds and he's there in record time. He'd nearly twisted an ankle descending the stone steps five at a time to make it to the lower level of the palace, but it was worth it not to miss her should she wander off again.

The Jotun wasn't much made for running. He's a leader. A schemer. A thinker. Sure, in a pinch he's an ace with a dagger, but if given the choice, he'd rather leave the heroics to... _well_... the HEROES.

Battles are best fought with soldiers and he is far above that. Plain and simple, Loki does NOT run. Not into battle or away in retreat. And yet, here he is running, quite literally, to her.

And running is $#!^#* exhausting.

Panting, Loki decides to catch his breath before stepping inside the cook's pantry.

It's a large food storage. Big enough for the entire palace, though probably not big enough to feed Volstagg's massive belly. The room comes complete with entry to the kitchen, the next room over.

Loki peeks around the doorframe to spy her just inside, still with her back towards him. At first he thinks this must be a trap. Lorelei could very well be playing tricks on him by wearing Sigyn's skin again. But he supposes there's only one way to find out. And so, with a deep breath, he steps inside.

Ever so slowly, the Trickster moves forward, cautious not to be heard. An accomplished talent of his, sneaking about unheard and unseen. She's completely oblivious to his approach. Once within proper striking range, should he need to fight, finally he lets himself be known.

"What are you doing here?"

He keeps his voice plain, still not sure whether he's dealing with friend or foe. Still, the woman jumps at the sound. Eyes wide as saucers, she quickly spins around to face him.

"Theoric?"

A warm blush paints her porcelain skin a charming shade of pink. And in that moment Loki knows for certain it is her. The REAL Sigyn. Lorelei could never pretend to know such modesty well enough to even FAKE a blush as real as that.

"Theoric! You gave me such a fright! What are you doing here?" Sigyn asks breathlessly. "Are you _following_ me?"

A wide grin spreads across Theoric's lips as Loki drops his guard. He's relieved it's truly Sigyn.

"I would never do such a thing." Loki lies. "And besides, I do believe I'd asked you first. What are you doing sneaking about at this hour?" His eyes drop to just below her shoulders. "And in your nighty?"

Sigyn suddenly remembers her attire. She'd gotten so caught up with the shock and surprise of seeing Theoric that she'd forgotten just how exposed she really is.

She clutches at the top of her nightgown as to conceal her breasts, though not well enough. Loki needn't stare hard to make out the lovely outline of her rather bountiful chest through the thin material. Two scrumptiously plump nipples stare back at him, peeping out from behind white cotton as if to say 'hello'. Such sweet, luscious dumplings. He'd love nothing more than to pop one in his mouth and suckle like a newborn kitten... My how they've certainly roused his serpent to rise from its slumber.

The underdressed maiden clears her throat, snapping Loki from his blatant ogling. Instead he fixes his gaze on the little pink satin bow affixed to the top of her nightgown before closing his eyes altogether.

"My apologies, m'lady. Excuse my rudeness." Loki says most sincere. He realizes some remnant of Lorelei's magic must still be working its way out of his system, likely stirred up with the adrenaline from the run. This sort of behavior isn't much like him. "It's just... I mean... You are really quite lovely."

The largest grin he's ever grinned stretches wide across his face at his embarrassment. So wide, his cheeks hurt. They turn the same rosy color as hers.

To his compliment, Sigyn casts her eyes to the floor and smiles. She bashfully tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Thank you, but I feel I must apologize, as well. I had no intention to be caught so indecent. Or to be caught at all, really. I hadn't planned on company." She admits sheepishly. "After all the wine... I craved a post-midnight snack. You see, I couldn't sleep, and..."

"There's no need to apologize. There's absolutely nothing _indecent_ about you. In fact, from where I stand, I'd say the view is really quite breathtaking. I appreciate it immensely." Loki flatters further. "And I wasn't following you, I assure you. You see, I couldn't sleep either. I thought a stroll would clear my head. And so took to patrolling the grounds when I happened upon you enjoying your _post-midnight_ snack."

It's not a complete lie. In fact, most of what he'd said is true.

"Though it still remains, you're not supposed to be here. The pantry is for service only." He presses with a sly smirk. "I don't suppose the late Queen allowed you access here, as well?"

His playfulness helps her forget her embarrassing state. As well as his. Though she still clutches at her dress, she doesn't seem as tense any longer. The mood of the room has lightened to become something more carefree. Just as it has ALWAYS been between the two long-standing friends, even if he does hide his true face from her.

Matching his impish smirk, Sigyn raises her eyes from the floor to meet his. With heavy eyelids and a smoldering gaze, her eyes do sparkle with such mischief. And he of all people should know.

In reply to his question, she says neither 'yay' nor 'nay', just simply extends out her hand to offer a treat.

"Fancy a chocolate?"

To this, Loki laughs. He'll take that as 'nay'.

"You try bribing me with baking chocolate?"

Sigyn giggles in return, so adorably biting her bottom lip. She knows she's been caught red handed sneaking about where she's not supposed to and here she is trying to worm her way out of it. Lucky for her, the guard has a sweet spot for her.

"Is it working?"

With a dramatically heavy sigh, Loki plays along with her fun game. He reaches his hand out to snatch up the candy.

"Weeeeeellllll... I SUPPOSE I could let you off with a warning. THIS time." He sneaks the treat inside his mouth. "Seeing as yo- _ghhhhcchhhhh_..."

Before even swallowing, Loki spits the chewed chocolate out into his hand.

"Tis bitter." He complains. Hunched over, he stares up at her, perplexed.

"Well, of course it's bitter." Sigyn laughs sweetly. "Tis DARK chocolate."

Letting his wad of spit and chewed up chocolate slide off his hand onto the floor, Loki wipes his palm on the front of his pant leg.

"You bribe me with bitter chocolate?"

Sigyn can't help but laugh at his sour puss mug. He clicks his tongue, scraping it against the roof of his mouth to rid himself of the foul taste.

"I LIKE dark chocolate." She replies playfully. "Tis complex."

"Tis most foul."

"Tis delicious!"

"Tis disgusting is what it is." He retorts.

Back and forth. She remarks and he returns.

"You simply have no taste for it." She quips.

"You simply have no taste."

Though he wishes he hadn't quite returned with THAT. Yet even still, she doesn't seem offended. Instead, she only grins harder.

"Mayhap you're correct." She replies, taking a nibble of her treat. "Because I think I like YOU."

"Oh?"

OH!

She takes a seat on the cold, marble floor and he follows suit. She with her knees in tight to her chest and he with one knee up and the other leg outstretched. Side by side, both with their backs to the shelves of pickled fish and smoked meats. Loki finds a jar of preserves to his left and takes it down off the shelf. Unscrewing the top, he's happy to find it's a jar of sweet blackberry jam.

"So you like me?" He asks puckishly, sticking his fingers in the tasty jam and bringing them to his lips. "Now, when you say 'like', do you mean LIKE like or just like? LIKE as in-"

" _Ughhhh_... I take it back." Sigyn groans loudly, cutting off his lively tangent.

"No, no. You said it." He laughs. "It cannot be retracted."

Loki scoots in closer so that their sides touch, resting his upright knee against hers.

He stares down into his pot of jelly, his insides suddenly feeling just as wibbly wobbly as the contents in the jar. The Wordweaver knows just what to say next, but cannot bring himself to say it. His silver tongue feels as if it were made of lead.

Why is it so difficult to admit such things? His feelings? The truth? Yet, somehow from behind this mask he wears, he finds such things a little easier. As if from behind Theoric's eyes, he cannot be harmed from such things as rejection. Because that is what he truly fears most. Her rejection.

"If it's any consolation to you, I must admit I like you, as well." Loki begins softly, no longer playing. Still staring down, he's afraid to look her in the eye. He idly stirs a finger inside the jar. He's a master of words, so why is this one in particular so difficult for him to say? "In fact, should I be so bold to say... I've found myself fallen in _love_ with you."

He looks up to catch her staring. Her bright eyes blank, he cannot read them.

"I-"

Her reply is cut short by a team of bakers entering the pantry, readying the supplies to begin baking the morning's breads and pastries.

All is still for a moment. The bakers stare at what they see to be the Crimson Hawks commander and an underdressed maiden, a pair of trespassers in their storeroom. And the pair stare right back. Each group as if they were deer in headlights. Waiting for the other group to blink.

Finally, Loki grabs Sigyn's hand and shouts, "Run!", and the two jump up and bolt from the room as fast as both of their legs can carry. Leaving the poor bakers scratching their heads in their wake.

* * *

 _ **"What in the name of Laufey's Big And Tall Stores?"**_

 _ **A/N: Ok. I couldn't help myself. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, go watch LEGO Marvel Super Heroes: Maximum Overload! You're welcome xoxo**_


	10. Thyself Be True

_**Two posts in one week!? You have mybonded to thank for that! Thank you so much for the lovely reviews, hun! And now, your prize...**_

* * *

 **THYSELF BE TRUE**

It is the night that never ends. Not that he want it to.

So many countless years he'd spent separated from her, his Sigyn, his soul, that he dare not think of the possibility should he be separated from her again.

Imagine what his life would have been like had she stayed. Would he have discovered the truth about his heritage? If he had, would it have affected him as such? Would she have helped him through it? His light in the ever growing darkness? Or would she have left him? Screaming. Would he be a different man? A better man? Or something so much worse?

It was only after she'd stopped coming around the palace that Loki had taken fully to magic, immersing himself in his studies completely. There seemed nothing better to fill the void she'd left behind at the time. A hole in his heart which he'd filled with greed and power and vanity and such terrible envy of his brother, Thor. With such wanton vengeance and hate and wrath. A desire to be king at any cost imaginable. A desire to be acknowledged. To be worthy. To be loved.

If only...

Maybe, at the time, he would have been planning the birth of his first born, instead of the incursion of Midgard. Maybe his mother would still be alive. Maybe Thor would have made for a lousy king, and having failed in his duties, father would...

No.

There's no use fantasizing on what COULD have been when it doesn't change the fact of WHAT he is. A Frost Giant could NEVER take the throne of Asgard. Nor could a monster such as he ever hope to hold the heart of a maiden as good and pure as Sigyn. To be Loki means to be without hope. But for THEORIC? For Theoric, the possibilities are endless.

And so, under the guise of the ever gallant Theoric, Loki leads Sigyn through the palace to the next stop in their increasingly long night. From the gala to the sea. From their respective bedroom chambers to the cook's pantry. The only question is, where next?

Luckily for Loki, he knows of just the place.

Just outside the courtyard gardens sits an old, abandoned tower which he used to frequent as a child. Tis where he practiced magic, perfected spells, and more than not, just sat and read the afternoons away. Filled to the brim with books and relics of the past, many a day and sometimes a night were spent locked away within its ancient walls of stone and mortar.

Overgrown with fern and foliage, it's not exactly the most impressive looking of places. Had Sigyn been any other woman, Loki may have tried to woo her with his wealth and prestige. Someplace fancy and expensive and exclusive. Someplace unimportant and indifferent. Unfeeling. But for Sigyn, this is a part of himself rarely shown. This very well may be his heart and soul exposed. The very last shred of himself, the humanity that he'd left behind. That was lost to him, forgotten after his fall, which she has since helped him to remember.

This tower belonged to THEM.

He'd taken her here, now so very long ago. Every summer, when she'd come to stay, they'd find themselves up in the old, dusty rafters, reading stories until there were no light left to read. And after the sun had set and all the world had gone to bed, they'd make their own stories, writing their own happy endings.

It's been so long since he has been here. Like all things in his life, it has since been boarded up and closed off, both figuratively and not. But today, it's been reopened. Breathing new life into a part of himself he'd long thought dead.

Together, they ascend the winding staircase, climbing their way to the top. And back through time.

He feels like his old self again. Though he appears as Theoric, inside, he is all Loki. Just one step inside the musty, dilapidated room and a flood of memories comes rushing back. A tidal wave set to knock him right over. And it seems that she does feel it too.

Standing in the very center of the small, circular room filled to the brim with dusty books stacked upon books, Sigyn gazes about her in wonder. Eyes wide and mouth agape, she's in her absolute glory. And Loki relishes in it, delighted by her sheer delight.

"How..."

How did you know of this place? How did you know I used to frequent here as a child? How did you know I would love this so? How... Just, HOW?

Sigyn trails off. She has so many questions, but all speech seems to fail her. All she can muster is a single word. And a single word is all Loki needs. He understands her completely.

"I saw you reading earlier in the garden, when we first met, and remembered I'd happened upon this tower while patrolling and that it was filled with all these books. I thought you might enjoy it. Maybe find something you'd like? It doesn't appear as if anyone has been up here in years."

It's a total lie, but it's not like he can tell her the absolute, honest truth. How they used to hide up here for shelter when the rains came rolling in and they could not venture out to play. How she used to lay her head in his lap and have him read to her as he gently stroked her hair. How they'd shared their first kiss while nose-deep in a novel. Twas the last that he saw her. How small they were back when, and how much they've both grown since. She into a proper lady and he...

Loki watches in awe as she instinctively motions towards one bookcase in particular, excitedly reaching her hand forward to pull a certain tome from its cobweb-lined shelf. But just as her fingertips brush against its spine, she stops herself and withdraws. Curious, the Shapechanger steps closer.

"Would you like to borrow that one? I can read it with you, if you like." He asks softly from just behind her shoulder, his lips inches from her ear. So close, he may as well be resting his chin in the crook of her neck. His hand hovers at her hip, yearning so terribly to touch her, to hold her to him.

However, his delightful mood starts to wane when he realizes her excitement has faded. She's still yet to remove the book. Instead she just stares at the thing. That sparkle in her eyes replaced with such a deep melancholy of emotion.

"Is everything alright?" Loki asks, concerned. Standing upright, he backs himself away from her to give Sigyn a bit of room.

At the sound of his voice, she lowers her hand to her side, leaving the book where it's shelved. And with a great big smile, Sigyn spins around to face him. Though it's meant to reassure, Loki knows such a smile is fake, as nothing gets past the God of all Lies.

"Everything is fine." Sigyn assures. "Tis just..."

"Ghosts?"

So many memories lie here in this room. Such wonderful moments held safe, locked away and preserved in time and mind. And yet for her it brings her sadness. Loki can see so clearly the pain she tries to hide. She cannot hide from him.

It's BECAUSE this room belonged to THEM that it torments her so. It reminds her of the boy she'd lost. Her Loki. Her friend. It reminds her of his shining eyes and playful smile. The way he'd looked at her like no one else would. Like he saw her. REALLY saw her. And how that all changed. How he looked at her the day of his trial with a sneer and dark eyes. How he didn't even see her at all. How the boy she knew had been replaced with some feral beast. And now even that beast, whatever became of her Loki, is dead.

Sigyn nods her head softly. There are many ghosts here, indeed.

"But tonight is for making new memories, yeah?" She says with a hint of a sparkle returned to her eye.

Turning away from the shelf, Sigyn scampers off to find a new book to read, leaving Loki staring at what was once her most favorite. He runs his fingers down its spine, tattered and worn from all the years of constant use. How many times had she asked him to read her that one? He truly can't tell, it's that many. Nearly to the point of begging, he'd gotten so sick of it. And yet he always relented because she loved it so.

"Hey! Are you coming?"

Loki turns to find that she's already picked out a new book and has secured herself a spot on the chaise lounge by the window. She pats the cushion beside her, dust flying into the air as she does so, expecting him to join her. Replacing his smile, Loki does just that.

Taking a seat at her side, he plucks the book from her hand, inspecting the cover.

"Peer Gynt." He says aloud.

Tis the story of a man and the misadventures of his life. A Midgardian folktale of Nordic origin. Following the exploits of a young Peer, full of tricks and tall tales, in his search for a life worth living up to his impossible expectations and standards, as well as his ego. How such a life did bring his mother shame and lead him further and further astray from the woman he so loved. Peer swore one day to be an emperor. Instead he dies, alone, an enfeebled old man looking back on his life of nothingness.

Loki grimaces. He never liked this one.

But as she snuggles in close, how his heart does melt. Sigyn rests her head on his shoulder, much like she did at the beach, but this time she shoots back upright.

"You're freezing!" She cries, touching a hand to her cheek in surprise.

He was just as cold then, where the sea met the sand, but she hadn't thought anything of it. Theoric had lent her his cape, exposing him to the night's chill and the cold ocean air. But now, here in this stuffy room, he wears more clothes than she and yet he's colder than death itself.

Loki chuckles to himself. Others had always found him so cold to the touch, only now he knows why.

"I've a warm heart, I assure you." He croons, wrapping an arm around Sigyn to bring her back in. "Should you be so brave as to weather the cold."

And so she relaxes back into him, now her head to his chest, just beneath his chin. Sigyn wraps her arms around his waist and lifts her feet onto the lounge, making herself nice and cozy for the story to begin.

He folds back the cover and flips through the pages, resting the saga in the palm of his hand. Then, with her hair tickling at his lips, Loki starts a new chapter. Act one of this play.

"'That's a lie, Peer!' His mother scolds angrily. "No it isn't!" Peer Gynt returns without stopping." Loki begins.

Page after page, time melts away into nothing. Before either of them know it, the sun's begun to rise. In through the time-weathered window panes it spills. Specks of dust dancing upon its rays of glitter and gold.

"The Troll King asks, 'What is the difference between trolls and men?'" Loki continues with a drawn out yawn. "'Out there, where skies are bright, man says: 'To thyself be true.' In here, among trolls, we say: 'Be true to yourself and to hell with the world.'"

Another yawn escapes him, making Loki break from reading. He looks down to notice Sigyn has since fallen fast asleep on him, her shoulders rising and falling softly to the slow, steady rhythm of her breathing. Since when she'd succumbed to slumber, he hasn't a clue. But seeing how peaceful she looks, he dare not wake her now. It's been a long night and she deserves her rest. As does he.

Kicking off his heavy boots, Loki finally makes himself more comfortable. He drops the book to the floor and cozies in beside Sigyn on the chaise lounge, careful not to wake her as he repositions her body beside him. It's a bit of a squeeze for them both to fit on the piece of furniture, but he doesn't mind snuggling in tight. The lounge seemed so much larger when they were children, now he's just glad he doesn't measure up to a full Giant's height.

Like spoons, he nestles her back to his front and buries his face in her hair. A shimmer of green and he's Theoric no more. He's far too tired to keep with appearances, anyhow. And besides, the Liesmith would like to experience this moment in its entirety, without any means of deception. To feel her skin on HIS skin. Not Theoric's. Not a lie's. But HIS.

Loki takes Sigyn in his arms and holds her close, so close they may as well be one. And that's how he feels in this moment. At one. Whole as he joins her in the land of dreams.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Peer Gynt is a five-act play written by Norwegian dramatist Henrik Ibsen. YEARS ago I had to pleasure of visiting Norway to take part in the Peer Gynt Festival and see, first-hand, this truly spectacular (and DAMN long!) drama unfold. If Norwegian folktales are your thing or you're just looking for a different kinda read and can't make it to Norge any time soon, be sure to pick it up in book form! They've even got it translated into English! And if reading's not quite your thing (WHAT ARE YOU DOING READING THIS, THEN!?) then just turn down the shades, close your eyes, and blast some of Edvard Grieg's "In The Hall Of The Mountain King" xoxo**_


	11. Night And Day

**NIGHT AND DAY**

Rain pounds against the roof of the old stone tower, falling in sheets to the sound of a hundred little fingers tapping gently on a drum. A clap of thunder rumbles across the land bringing with it a dark sky and clouds for as far as the eye can see. Tis a day of storms. A welcomed reprieve for farmers and their crops, but for a trio of dull, listless children, it is anything but. Tis a day of boredom, is what it is. Especially for one little godling in particular.

Standing by one of the tower windows, a young Thor looks out into the world he knows as home. Usually bright and shining, a city of magnificance, today is dreary and cold. Lifeless. All the townsfolk have clung to their homes, warm by the fire. But for a young heart of sixteen which burns for adventure, staying indoors is like a life sentence.

"You should step back from the window." The blossoming Sigyn, a girl of thirteen, warns motherly. "You'll catch cold."

"Just do as she says." Little Loki sighs, bored.

Lying lazily on his back atop the chaise lounge by another such window, the tiny Trickster of fourteen years of age tosses a small rubber ball high into the air, idly playing catch with himself.

"If you don't, she'll just keep whining til you do."

From her spot seated in the center of the room on the floor, Sigyn picks a heavy book from the pile beside her to throw at the mouthy mischief maker. It strikes the wall just above where he lays, falling atop him. He misses his catch.

"HEY!"

Sitting upright abruptly, Loki glares at the girl.

"What was THAT for?"

Sigyn glares right back in return.

"I am NOT whiney!"

Thor sighs and returns to staring out his window.

"The BOTH of you are whiney."

Sigyn casts Thor a dirty look while Loki simply returns to his game. Apart from the storm, all returns to silence. But only for a moment, as silence has never agreed with the boy with many a word.

"Why ARE you here, brother?" The Godling of Lies dares to ask the elder Odinson. "Is there no one else to pester?"

"He's not pestering, Loki." Sigyn argues with the little liar. "He's simply bored. We ALL are."

"So why HERE, then?" Loki returns. "Why not be bored elsewhere?"

Stepping away from the window, the Godling of Thunder slumps his back against the cold, stone wall. Sulking.

"The sparring fields are flooded and Sif is stricken with flu." He sighs glumly. "It will be a matter of days before she is feeling well enough to be out and about again."

A knowing smile warms Sigyn's lips. Her eyes begin to sparkle. Sitting more upright, she hugs at her knees.

"You should go to her." The young maiden recommends with a darling tilt to her head. "I'm sure she's awfully lonely confined to her sickbed. Even if she cannot be of much company, it would surely mean the world to her to have a friend by her side."

Thor lifts his gaze from off the floor. His mood seems lifted, as well.

"You really think so?" He asks.

"I do." Sigyn assures with a nod. "And be sure to pick a handful of daisies on your way!"

Her sunny smile must be contagious as it's warmed its way to Thor's lips. While he had been so sullen on this dark, dreary day, he's now found new lightness. Eager to tromp through the storm to find his way to a very dear friend in need.

Much like his namesake, Thor bolts towards the stairs like lightning, being sure to express his thanks to Sigyn as he passes her by. He does so by planting a friendly peck atop her pretty, golden head. Something which Loki _pretends_ not to notice.

"I thought he'd never leave." The Dark Prince grumbles, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

Sigyn returns her attention to the younger, smaller, and much more angsty-er prince.

"Why are you acting like that?" She asks, slightly annoyed.

"Acting like what?" Loki grunts out a reply.

Like he doesn't know how he's acting. He's being a jerk, but sweet little Sigyn would never say such a thing as that.

"You're being all _grumpy_." She instead calls him out.

"I am NOT grumpy." He huffs with a roll of the eye.

"Yes you are." Sigyn insists. "Did something happen between you two?"

As a friend, she's concerned something may have come between the two brothers. And she couldn't be more right. Even if the girl doesn't know it is SHE that's come between them. It's something Sigyn is completely oblivious to.

Through the years, the trio have grown to be such very good friends. Not a summer has passed without many a grand story to tell. And yet as they've matured and grown older, a rift has formed between the brothers. It's not Sigyn's fault, such a fissure would have been forged whether she'd been present or not, it's simply the nature of the beast.

Two teenaged boys coming into their own, and they couldn't be more different. Like oil and water. Fire and ice. Thor with his hot head and short temper, the brawn to Loki's more cognitive ways. And as such, Loki has always been more thoughtful and pensive. One to play the long game rather than his elder brother's need for instant gratification. Until recently, things had been going so well. There'd been balance between Thor's hot to Loki's cold. There'd been peace. But lately everything's just... _different_.

Maybe it's the introduction of such pesky pubescent hormones thrown into the mix. Or maybe it was simply destined to be. But Loki has found himself more withdrawn than usual. Becoming increasingly jealous of his brother over everything and nothing at all. But ESPECIALLY over Sigyn.

Where once he had not a care of Sigyn sharing her time between he and his brother, now he wants her all to himself. Every minute of every hour of every day. Just he and her. WITHOUT his brother getting in the way. Though he knows it's not meant to be. Because if anything it is HE who's in THEIR way. As far as Loki is concerned, he's convinced himself her heart belongs to Thor. For how could she ever choose HIM with his brother standing in his way? Thor is always first pick in everything in life. The golden child. And Loki's forever stuck down in his shadow. Second in line.

"No. Nothing like that." Loki sighs.

"What, then?"

"I don't know..."

"You're lying!"

No matter how hard Loki tries to evade her questions, she's relentless. Forever picking, scratching away at the surface of him. And the more she keeps digging, the more she succeeds in wearing him down. Until finally, he caves.

"Fine!" The teen prince huffs. "I _suppoooose_... well... I suppose I just don't care for the way you treat Thor. Satisfied?"

Sigyn finds herself taken aback. She absolutely hasn't a clue what he speaks of. The girl had always thought she'd treated the brothers as equals. As friends. Her family.

"And how do I treat him?"

Sitting himself upright on the lounge, Loki hangs his stick-thin legs over the side and rests his elbows on his knees, letting his hands dangle in the space between. He hunches his back forward, staring at the wooden floorboards.

"Like you're his betrothed." He replies in an even, emotionless tone. "You dote on him."

His face is blank and voice is still and yet Sigyn's sure he must be joking. Even if she cannot read his expressions, there's no way what he says is truth.

"You jest! I do not!" The girl laughs, brushing him off. "And besides, he fancies Sif."

"He fancies YOU."

His reply is so quick and so sure, it startles her. Loki looks up from the floor at her and she can tell that he's serious.

"Tis not like that." Sigyn says softly through a tender smile. "And even if it were, what concern is that to you? Why do you care how I treat your brother."

Loki returns his eyes to the floor. He hasn't a reply, only a shrug.

"With your day of birth approaching... Tis just that you'll be of proper courting age and... He's just not RIGHT for you, Sigyn."

Sigyn's smile fades. The emotions on her face runs deep.

Making her way quietly over to the lounge, she takes a seat beside Loki, placing her hands neatly in her lap.

"Where is this coming from, Lock?"

Her pet name for him. As silly as it is, it makes him smile, even if it's a sad one. Taking her hands in his, he clasps them so dearly, rubbing his thumb against the smooth top of her skin.

"Nowhere. Nowhere at all." He lies, hiding the pain in his eyes behind a false smile. "I just don't want you making the wrong decisions, is all. I _care_ about you too much."

"And I care about you, too." Sigyn replies in a soft, heartfelt tone.

They sit together hand in hand, knees touching, turned towards one another. Eye to eye and yet a million miles away.

If only he'd come right out and say it, tell her all the things he's got locked away inside. How he thinks of her always. How he's loved her since the moment they'd first met. How'd he'd spend eternity making her happy if only... If only he could find the words.

Many a night he'd racked his brain thinking up just the right thing to say at just the right time and in just the right moment. Playing the scenario out over and over again, but it never seemed right. Because nothing he could ever say would truly express how he really feels.

And so he says nothing. Just smiles and kisses the tops of her hands.

"Now... This marks your last day at the palace before your return home for the season and I do not wish to burden you with my _grumpy_ mood. Tis just the rain that has gotten me low, I assure you." The Liesmith does what he does best. He lies. Lies through his teeth. Funny how such a thing rolls off his silver tongue so easily, while the truth stays forever stuck in the back of his throat. Choking him. "Please, let us forget all this talk of growing older and all the lovely complications that come with it. What do you say we leave this world of chilling rain and uncertain futures to cozy in with a good book?"

"I'd like nothing more." Sigyn agrees with a delightful giggle.

"Good!" Loki exclaims, finding new excitement. "I'll even let you pick."

She looks at him as if to say 'are you sure?'. Her eyebrows furrow in scrutiny. To this, Loki laughs.

"I PROMISE you I won't even make a fuss." He assures her. "Now go pick out whatever you like."

Excitedly, she hops up from her seat and scampers towards the bookshelf, searching for the tome her heart desires. It doesn't take long. Within moments, she's back. Just enough time for Loki to add a log to the small fire crackling in the stone hearth nearby.

Again, she joins him on the lounge. Curling up at his side, Sigyn rests her head on his shoulder and so he begins.

"Seriousy?" Loki feigns a whine. "THIS one again?"

Sigyn gives him a sharp jab in the ribs, making him wince.

"You PROMISED not to fuss!" She hisses.

"I know! I know! I lied!" He laughs. "Ok. Ok. You're right. I did promise. Here goes..."

Tis a book on bygone myths and legends. Stories of the old Norse gods written by the simple Midgardian folk so very long ago. The gods of gods some would say. Back before a time of Loki. Or Thor. Or Odin. Or even grandfather Bor. A time of ancients.

The Godling of all Stories flips to her very favorite one.

"The Separation of Nótt and Dagr." Loki begins, reading aloud. Though he truly doesn't even need _read_ the book as he has every word in every line burned to memory. "There was a Frost Giant of Jotunheim by the name of Narfi who had a daughter named Nótt. Taking after her Jotun ancestry, Nótt was of dark skin and shadow. A long mane of flowing black hair engulfed her whole figure. She was a beautiful goddess of Night personified." He continues. "Nótt had three marriages, though the first two ended in failure. Her final marriage was to Dellingr, the King of Dawn, who was of the family of Gods. The Aesir of Asgard. He was of fair complexion with golden, red hair. The two were quite a contrast as he was light and she was dark, and yet this marriage worked. Together, they bore a son, Dagr, who was so beautiful and bright. With glittering blond hair, he took after Dellingr's side of the family."

Loki goes on to tell how Odin had given both Nótt and Dagr chariots with brilliant steeds, commanding them to ride along the skies of Midgard, bringing with them light and darkness in their wake. Illuminating the world with their magic.

"You're paraphrasing." Sigyn whispers playfully, lifting her head to look him in the eye.

"Am not." Loki defends with a puckish smirk. "I know every word by heart."

"Well, from your heart to your lips, that is NOT what the book says." She giggles in return. "Read it right!"

"But it sounds better when I say it the way I wish it to be said."

With a defeated sigh, Sigyn returns her head to Loki's shoulder.

"Aye." She relents with a smile. "That is true."

"Is that why you always make me read to you?" He asks, arching his neck to see her face. "You like the way I portray the events better than what is written? MY words over that of the authors? You know tis just a story. It is not based on fact."

"And how would you know?"

"I know because father, Odin, would never entrust such a horrid creature to such a task of import."

"You mean a Frost Giant?"

"Aye. A monster."

In childish fashion, Sigyn sits upright and pouts.

"Nótt is NOT a monster. Jotun or not, she's beautiful." Sigyn defends. "And together, both Night and Dawn beget Day. Tis a lovely story."

"Tis stupid."

For the life of him, Loki could never quite understand why Sigyn loves this story so. What could she possibly see in this fictional tale of fantasy. For not only would his father ever appoint a Jotun-born to such a noble position of authority, but to think an Asgardian would ever choose to marry and, worse yet, lay with such a lowly creature. It's disturbing.

And yet it brings her such enjoyment, which, in turn, brings him much the same. Even if he doesn't show it. Or is acting like a complete and total ass.

Still, stupid story or not, he shouldn't have been so harsh. It matters not his opinion of the tale. All that matters is that it makes her happy. And if he ever hopes to make her happy again, tis best he stops being so argumentative and keeps his big mouth shut.

But that just isn't his way. A Loki can never be silent for long. Which usually gets him into trouble. Like the black eye he received a few weeks back when he told Sif she had large hands, like a man. Sometimes the truth stings worse than lies.

And so this time he expects trouble, as well. But the blow, it never comes. Sigyn doesn't storm off nor does she strike him. She doesn't argue nor does she cry. Instead, she just laughs. A laugh to warm his heart on this cold, rainy day.

"You're right." The young maiden chuckles sweetly. "It is a stupid story. But... I _like_ it. I suppose in a way it reminds me of _you_."

"Me?" Loki asks, confused. "How so?"

Quite truthfully, Loki's still shocked she hadn't punched him. Though he can't figure out what the hel is so funny. What could a story about a Jotun Goddess of Night and the God of Day riding around on chariots possibly do with him?

With her head on his shoulder, Sigyn begins playing with the patterns to his tunic, idly running her fingers along the stitching made of green and gold. Loki can feel her body shrink into him, as if suddenly she's found herself shy for some reason. Something which is most unlike her. Sigyn has always been comfortable with being nothing but her absolute self around him. And only him.

"I don't know." Sigyn begins timidly. "I guess... Well, I know how you feel as if you're living in Thor's shadow. And that the dark can be a very lonely place, but it isn't. Or at least it doesn't have to be. You see, the night is just as _important_ as the day. For without darkness there can be no light. Without night, the dawn can never come."

Again, Loki tries to arch his neck but fails to capture her attention. With her head tilted downward to his chest, he cannot make out her expression to see what she is feeling.

"So, I'm the night?" Loki asks plainly. "And what... Thor's the day?"

She begins to push off him, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"I know, tis stupid, but-"

"Nay, it isn't." Loki interjects, pulling her back towards him. "But you see, you've got it all wrong. Tis not Thor who is the day. He only resides within your radiance."

What he does is no trick nor game. What glides from his tongue is no lie but the truth. The right words at the right moment he'd been searching.

Taking her chin in his hand, the Mischief God lifts her head to look her square. To match her eyes with his and witness how they shake. Or mayhap it is HE that is shaking. He's absolutely trembling and yet he's never felt so sure.

"You see, if I'm to be the night, then you're the day that I'm forever chasing. The light I've spent my whole life searching. You bring me balance and give me meaning. For I cannot exist without you."

His voice is smooth as velvet and softer than a whisper. Yet his words are stronger than all the thunder and the maelstrom that pounds just outside their door. And so she listens. As if her life depended. She hangs on every word.

Loki takes a deep breath to steady his nerves. He gulps down hard, his little heart racing.

"You are my everything."

Closing his eyes, he leans forward. His hand instinctively pulls her in towards him, guiding her lips to his. Their faces touch, her nose brushing softly against his. He can feel her warm breath tickle at his skin. And then it happens. Their lips meet. So gentle and sweet. Like everything and nothing he could possibly imagine. More magical than all of magic, itself.

Though it lasts for but a moment, he can spend eternity locked deep within that kiss. And yet, they depart. Each slowly pulling back.

Loki stares at her, unblinking. Waiting. Anticipating so anxiously what she will do next. He's still so very much surprised he'd actually gone and done it. He'd kissed her. HER. It may very well be the first time that he'd so boldly and so outright taken what he'd desired. And now he awaits the consequences of his daring action.

With wide eyes, Sigyn returns his gaze. She's in absolute shock. How could she not know he'd felt this way? But a moment ago they were as children. Innocent and free. He was her greatest friend. And now? A heartbeat later and all has changed. They've crossed a point they can never return.

Without even realizing it, her hand moves to her lips. Her fingertips feeling the soft skin where he'd kissed her. To her surprise, they feel cold. Almost tingly. What a strange sensation, she thinks. But she likes it.

A sliver of gold cuts through the darkness. A single ray of light to brighten the room. The rain has let up and the clouds must be lifting. The sun has returned to Asgard once more.

All at once, a smile finds its way unto her lips. It cannot be contained. And Loki smiles too. He can breathe easy now.

Finally, he has his answer.

* * *

 _ **Forever ago I read a Fanfic about Sigyn & Loki and the story of Night and Day. I can't remember what the Fanfic was called or who wrote it (if you think it's yours, please reply and I'll be sure to give you props!), but it really struck a cord with me. I just love the imagery of her being light and he, darkness and how she brings him balance. A feeling of happiness he's forever chasing, but always out of reach. ...sigh...**_

 _ **Wel... How was that for another trip down memory lane? Next chapter, back to the present day! Reviews pretty please!**_


	12. Surrender

**SURRENDER**

Somewhere far a rooster crows. The sun has risen. A new day comes.

Loki awoke at the first signs of dawn, watching as the sun crept higher along the walls of the old stone tower, painting them in glorious amber. The air sits thick with morning dew and decades of dust. All those tiny particles that float slow upon the morning's golden rays of light.

With a full heart and heavy chest, the God of Mischief has never been so content as he is in this moment. He's never been so happy. To wake next to woman he loves. To watch as she slumbers so peacefully beside him, cradled safely in his arms. He's never known a feeling such as this. Such bliss.

He runs the bridge of his nose against her soft cheek, nuzzling his head to hers. A satisfying little sigh escapes her lips, making him smile into the warm skin of her neck. His lithe fingers begin to play with the fabric of her night dress as if they had ten tiny little minds of their own, each more mischievous than the last. Gliding atop smooth fabric, they trace along the edges where silk meets skin.

How her ivory skin does gooseflesh as he plays about her collar. Pushing her white-gold hair aside, Loki further exposes her delicate neck to his roaming digits. Such long and slender beasties, they are. Dreadfully cold, she shivers at his sweet caress. And while a Jotun's touch may be deadly to most, Loki's is anything but. His is affectionate and loving. Worshipful and tender. With but a wee bit dash of naughty. Of course, how could he not?

His fingers beg of him to feel along all the lovely hills and valleys of her luscious landscape. To scale tall peaks and to plummet themselves deep within her depths. To explore every inch of her succulent scenery. But to those wicked feelers, he says 'nay'. Loki respects his dear heart too much to ever take advantage of her this way. In his arms, she is defenseless. Sigyn TRUSTS him. And that is something he hasn't known in quite some time. Trust. Something he dare not betray.

And so he smothers her in his affection. Mapping out her wondrous territory in his mind, remembering all the stunning points of interest for future conquest. For he WILL stake his claim to her. Sigyn WILL be his. It is not a question of if, but when. And Loki has no qualms with waiting. For now, he simply enjoys the sights.

Loki weaves his hand with hers, interlocking their fingers. Marveling at how dainty her hand feels in his. How right.

"I love you."

Pressing his lips to her ear, he whispers so softly. Tis but a breath, cool against her skin.

Sigyn begins to stir. Her body twists in his arms, turning to face him. With a tired moan, she rubs at the sleep in her eyes. A blink and they flutter open. Not fully, just slits as they adjust to the haze of the early morning sun.

"Lo...ki?" She squeaks quietly, almost mouthing the word. Her voice is still so hoarse from slumber. Her mind yet to register where she is or with whom she is laying.

Nose scrunched and brow furrowed, the maiden squints her pale eyes to the brightness of the room, trying to fully make out the face of the figure beside her. With one foot still so firmly planted in the realm of dreams, confusion is written all over her features. She's yet to fully wake.

Loki smiles at the sound of his name from her lips, though scolds himself for being as stupid not to have returned to the form of Theoric before she'd awoken. Luckily, her sight is still bleary and mind is still fuzzy. He can work with that.

A kiss to her forehead and she blinks her eyes closed. Just long enough for him to make the transformation. And when her eyes open, he is Theoric once more.

" _mmm_... Theoric. I thought... Was I..."

"Good morning, my sunshine." Loki greets with Theoric's voice. "I trust you've had pleasant dreams?"

Nodding her head, Sigyns stretches with a yawn.

That's right, she thinks. She'd had much too much to drink last night and fell asleep with...

"OH GODS! We didn't..."

"Didn't? Didn't _what_?"

Loki under the guise of Theoric stares at her puzzled, until he finally realizes.

" _OHHHHH!_ " He exclaims proudly. "You mean fuc-"

She quickly covers his mouth with her hands, her face red with embarrassment.

"Please tell me we didn't."

Prying her hands away, he laughs.

"Your words do sting, m'lady." Loki grins wildly. "Why? Would that really be so awful?"

"YES!" Sigyn exclaims, redder than ever. "This is MOST unlike me, I swear! I've never done anything of this sort before. I do NOT nor do I INTEND to make a habit of sleeping with strange men!"

"Oh, am I STRANGE, now?" He teases. "Just last night you'd confessed you'd known me all your life."

"FELT like I'd known you all my life." She corrects. "Just because I'd said it does not make it so!"

"Yet here we are. You and I. Alone. Together." The Liesmith sing songs.

" _Ohhhhhhh_..."

Sigyn groans as she buries her head in his chest, hidden in shame. This only makes the Shapechanger laugh harder. He's absolutely enthralled in this fun little game.

"I don't suppose you've ever been with a man before?" He asks, part teasing, part curious.

She shakes her head 'no' which only makes him all the more giddy. But as much fun as it is to tease the poor maiden, mayhap it would be best to not take it too far. He does LOVE her, after all. Best not to torment her. Though her innocence is absolutely adorable. And alluring.

"Well then chin up, my dear. Rest easily as you still haven't yet." Loki replies in all honesty. "Nothing happened between us, I promise you. I simply BORED you to sleep with my reading, is all. And I soon followed after. Not a finger did I lay on you. Well... Maybe a finger, but tis all. Trust me when I say I was at my absolute best. I wouldn't be much of a commanding officer OR a gentleman if I couldn't keep your chastity safe and your heart secure."

"So we didn't?" Sigyn asks meekly, lifting her head.

Loki shakes his head.

"I promise."

Resting her cheek to his chest, Sigyn sighs her relief. Loki rests his chin against the crown to her head, that wicked grin returning.

"Would you like to?" He asks puckishly, cutting the silence.

Just as wicked as he, Sigyn punches Loki in the ribs, causing him to uproar in laughter.

"I can go right now, if you like!"

Another punch.

"If you'd allow me to explain to you the health benefits of-"

And another.

"I can be really quite convincing!"

And one to the gut.

"I take that as a 'nay'?"

Sigyn raises her fist, play-threatening to hit him again. Loki flinches, hands up in surrender. He raises his knees to shield himself from any further attack.

"You do not quit, do you?" She smirks, fist still raised.

"I know not how." He returns, hands still in the air.

She lowers her hand, and he, his guard.

"Though I think you broke something." He winces, touching his side. "Seriously. Is that how you treat a man who has kept your virtue?"

Sigyn giggles kittenishly.

"And are you, yourself, virtuous?" She teases in return.

"Me?" Loki asks with a devilish grin. "While my intentions may be so, alas, my mind and body? Nay. I'm afraid I'm as dirty as they come."

The young woman purses her lips, trying to hide the grin that is forming. She folds her arms across her chest.

"And yet you didn't think to take advantage of me while I slept?" She asks.

"Well... I thought of it." He replies.

Sigyn casts him a glare hard enough to make him wince again.

"I said I THOUGHT of it!" Loki defends playfully. "But I wouldn't! I swear! Not without your say!"

It's not as if he's a lustful sort of fellow. He's no Fandral, that's for sure. But Jotun or otherwise, what sort of a man would he be if such thoughts HADN'T crossed his mind? Not that he'd actually take her against her will. No. He may be a monster, but he's certainly not THAT far gone. She is painfully beautiful, though. He'd be absolutely mad NOT to want her. Which he DOES want her. Badly.

"I am a man of manly needs." Loki begins most suave in a cocky tone. Though as the words do flow, he finds himself becoming more and more sincere. "Though the moment we'd met, my needs have since changed. For you see, the only thing I need now is you. I need only to make you happy. To see you smile and bring you joy. I need you by my side. Forever and always. In your heart is my home. I need you to love me..."

Brushing her hair from her face, his fingers gently trace along the outline of her jaw. His thumb softly sweeps across her bottom lip.

"But more than anything, what I need most of all right now is to kiss you."

So captivated by his words is Sigyn that she doesn't even protest as he leans in to her. In fact, she finds herself wanting him to.

Her heart leaps at his touch. How he cups her ear in his hand and guides her in toward him. How soft and so gently, one would never know such a touch belongs to that of an elite guard, a man of war. No. His kiss spells something altogether different.

His lips meet hers and she can so clearly feel his longing. His heartache. So deep and sad and wanting. And something else... Cold.

He pulls back. With a small smile upon his face, he looks at her as if waiting for an answer to some question unspoken. But all she can do is stare at him in silence.

Wide-eyed, Sigyn draws a hand to her cold lips. It's in that moment she knows EXACTLY who Theoric reminds her of. But HE is dead and Theoric is NOT him. And she should run. She really should. Her mind screams DANGER. But her heart screams sweet surrender.

Sigyn thrusts herself into his arms. Hands in his hair, she mashes her lips to his, kissing him full and hard.

With eyes wide open, her amorous act certainly takes Loki by surprise, but he's quick to reciprocate the affection. Melting into her, his eyelids grow heavy. He grasps the nape of her neck firmly with a strong hand. The palm of his free hand resting at the small of her back.

How she shivers as he parts his lips, his silver tongue begging entrance inside. Without hesitation, she allows him admittance and the two begin their dance as one.

The very moment their tongues touch, Loki can feel that chill again. That bolt of electricity that does shoot down his spine. That feeling... It fills his veins with ice water and his belly with fire. Churning within him, hot with cold, his heart feels as if it may very well burst.

He's never felt so alive. He's never felt so complete as he is right here in her arms. Where the void within him had once growled for more, that gnawing hunger yearning to be fed, has since been satiated. No power or glory or gold or throne could ever compare to her love.

"Marry me."

The words come so naturally to Loki, it scares him. They spill from his lips without even thinking. And it scares Sigyn, too. Sitting upright, she lays a hand to his chest.

"You're crazy!" She exclaims breathlessly.

Loki as Theoric sits upright, as well.

"Aye." He grins. "As I'm crazy for YOU."

He goes in to kiss her again, but she pushes off him.

"Nay. You clearly must be daft." She laughs. "You can't possibly be serious. We've only met a day ago. You hardly know me at all. And I certainly do not know you!"

"And yet you know me well enough to share my... Ok, well, it's not quite a bed but you get the point. Even if the deed has yet be done, it does not change the fact that we have SLEPT together." Loki jokes. "Face it, we're practically married already. Might as well make it official."

"Theoric, I'm being serious."

"As am I!"

Taking her hands in his, Loki leans forward to rest his forehead to hers. He means to show her he IS serious. About her. About THEM.

"Look..." He begins in a soft, tender tone. All joking aside. "Tell me you don't trust me."

"I do not." She replies plainly.

Not quite the answer he was looking for.

"Fine..." He sighs. Let's try this again.

Loki scoots himself closer. Now more determined.

"Then tell me you do not LOVE me."

And again she answers.

"I do not."

Loki throws his hands up in the air. This woman is being infuriating.

"YOU LIE!"

Two little words he'd never thought he would say. Often the one on the receiving end of such an accusation, but never the accuser. The liar and not the lie-ee. It feels strange having the shoe on the other foot. He's not quite sure he likes the fit of it.

"One does not KISS another the way you kissed me if you do not LOVE me enough to do so!" He argues. "Nor does one gallivant about at all hours of the night in nothing but her NIGHTY if she does not TRUST her company well enough to protect her honor!"

Sigyn sighs and hangs her head.

"I know... It's just I... I know not HOW I feel. I mean..." She explains. "This is all so sudden. It's confusing."

Taking her face in his hands, Loki smiles at her adoringly.

"There's nothing to be confused about. You see it's really quite simple." He explains. "I love you."

It's the truth and nothing less. Staring deep into her eyes, he confesses his soul.

"You say you do not know me and that I know you not, as well, but if given the chance, I'd spend the rest of eternity learning everything there is about you. We have our whole lives, CENTURIES to get to know one another. And I look forward to each and every day so I may be the husband you deserve." He croons. "Tis true that we have only just met, and yet I cannot possibly fathom returning to a life before yesterday. Before I'd met YOU. Now that I have laid my head beside yours, I dare not think of when tomorrow may come and I not wake within your arms. That I may not greet the dawn with your smile and see the sunlight of your eyes. That I may never taste your lips again or feel the warmth of your embrace... I've only just met you and yet I cannot live another day without you. For this, I am certain. My life has only just begun since I've found you."

So lost within his gaze, her head sways with all his pretty words.

"A week." He states so simply.

"A week?" She repeats his words, unsure.

"Aye. A week. ONE week so I may prove to you my love." Loki replies with purpose. "One week to get to know one another as you so wish. So I may court you proper. And at the end of that one week, you will have your decision."

"And should I say 'nay'?" Sigyn asks, still skeptical.

"Then I will respect your decision."

Sure. Like Hel he will. It doesn't take the God of all Liars to see THAT bold-faced lie coming from a billion lightyears away!

"But if you say 'yea', Sigyn, I promise you the world." He continues most profoundly, almost darkly. "You will never want for not. Anything and everything your heart desires. Gold. Riches. I will murder the stars for you, should you will it. Just name it and it's yours."

His eyes burn with such strength and resolve. Those green specks of all that is Loki shining through so boldly with a will all its own. And yet he uses no magic. He doesn't NEED to. With his bewitching tongue and those hypnotizing eyes, he's got her mesmerized. Hook, line, and sinker. She's his. Even if she won't admit it. Yet.

And so an evening became a night became a day became a week. To what end will they become next?

So swayed, yet again she relents.

"Yea. One week more."


	13. Looks Can Be Deceiving

**LOOKS CAN BE DECEIVING**

Since when did being king become less a glorious burden and more just a pain in the arse?

After he'd escorted Sigyn back to her room to change and ready for the day, Loki had found himself rushing to fulfill his duties as the omnipotent All-father Odin. Something which has become much akin to a chore. Putting in face-time with dignitaries, settling petty squabbles amongst the denizens of the court, keeping the peace in an ever tumultuous time. It's hard enough accomplishing such menial tasks on any given day with a clear mind, but with thoughts of love swirling round his head, it's damn near impossible. How the hel is he supposed to concentrate on an uprising in Muspelheim when every time he opens his mouth to speak, he can taste her on his lips? When every time he blinks his eyes shut, he can see her on the backs of his eyelids?

And so he races through his obligations, excited to finish so he may reunite with her again. Pushing some appointments to days, or even further, _weeks_ out just so he may have a bit of time to splash a little water on his face and maybe grab a bite to eat before meeting Sigyn in the market. He doesn't even have the time to wash himself. No time for a bath or to primp himself before a mirror. Just enough to run a wet comb through his hair, slicking it back. Not that it matters. All she'll see is the illusion of Theoric. Not Loki. Not at all.

He can only hope she likes her men rugged. Because the state that he's in is most unbecoming of not only a prince, but of Loki. One who has always prided himself on appearance. Of being so prim and proper and clean on the outside, even if his insides were anything but. While Thor may have shone of sweat and stunk of adventure, with his hair worn wild and dirt laid under his fingernails, Loki kept himself always pampered and preened. So while he'd love nothing more than to make himself presentable, to put his best foot forward on his very first day of courting Sigyn, he simply doesn't have the time for it. Or the energy. Playing both king and lover-boy in the same day is exhausting. It's got him stretched thin. Odin. Theoric. Loki. He can hardly remember who he is anymore.

But one thing's for certain. Loki is most certainly not HIM.

It feels as if he's staring in a mirror. How strange it is to be in two places at once. Yes, he's more than capable of duplicating his illusions into two or ten or even an ARMY of himself. But that's all that they are, really. Illusions. Tricks of the eye. But him... The man that he is staring at right now from down the way. That's the REAL Theoric. And he's kissing HIS Sigyn!

For but a moment, Loki's mind goes blank. It's as if he's having an out of body experience, watching himself dressed as Theoric with his arms around his woman. He can only wonder if that's what he really looks like when he's with her. They make for a handsome couple, sure. He is a bit plain, though, for her. But then Loki remembers. He remembers that's NOT him. Remembers that HE'S the one standing there gaping like some sort of arsehole while some other guy has got his dirty tongue jammed down HIS woman's throat. And that royally pisses him off!

That's when the rage sets in. The jealousy within him. The wrath. That wicked little itch in the back of his brain that tells him to march right over there and rip Theoric's %$#ing head off with his bare bleeding hands. It makes his eyes see red and his skin turn blue.

With shaky breath, Loki exhales slowly, creating a puff of frost from his icy, cold lips. He screws his eyes shut, pleading with himself to keep the monster inside. Despite how terribly he desires to tear Theoric in twain, he can't afford to let the Jotun in him out. Slowly he calms, remembering himself. Loki remembers that he can't very well have a Frost Giant running around, terrorizing citizens in town square. Or even a doppelgänger Theoric parading about to only confuse and distress Sigyn. To only reveal Loki's lies.

Something must be done with him. But for now, Loki needs to think of a way out of this mess. He needs to lure the real Theoric away. And so Loki does as Loki does best. The God of Lies uses his head.

A flash of green and he changes from that of Theoric into another such soldier of Odin's elite. One of Theoric's comrades, Arko.

Showing as much restraint as he both physically and mentally can muster, Loki storms his way over to the kissing couple, literally tearing Theoric off her and dragging him away. Leaving Sigyn most baffled.

Once they're out of sight, far from prying eyes, Loki finally releases his grip on the real Theoric's collar. He does his best to keep composure. Not to throw the poor simpleton against the cobblestone wall. Or to rip out his throat.

"Oi! What is with you, Arko?" Theoric shouts, fixing his uniform.

Loki grits his teeth down tight, biting the insides of his cheeks to keep himself from saying something he'd only regret.

"Odin wishes for your assistance in the dungeons." The Liesmith growls low. "He says you are to secure the prisoners as the cells are cleaned."

Theoric sneers and rolls his eyes, grunting sometime distasteful beneath his breath.

"That be grunt work." He whines, hands on his hips. "Any low-level green horn can-"

"Odin asked specifically for you." Loki cuts in. This man is trying his patience.

"An' I'm BUSY, mate!" Theoric exclaims. "Hey, do me a solid an' pick up this shift for me, yeah? I'll do your stable duty for a week, I will. Just lemme bag this li'l filly while I've got her nice and hot. She's practically BEGGING for me t-"

"You. Are. To. Report. To. The. Dungeons."

Every word Loki growls trough grit teeth. Concentrating on articulating each and every syllable to its fullest. It's all he can do not to lose his cool. To drown out that nagging little voice in the back of his head that begs of him to plunge his thumbs into the poor bloke's bloody eye sockets.

"But..."

"NOW!"

It's not THEORIC'S fault that Loki had decided to assume his identity. It could have happened to ANYONE and yet it had to be him. He's just a pawn in a game he didn't even know he was playing. And it'll cost him. Dearly. For no one crosses Loki's path and gets away with it. No one.

So the real Theoric leaves, kicking at the dirt as he reports to the dungeons. Leaving Loki to assume his identity once more. Which he does, after his hands stop shaking and his pulse returns to normal. A few deep breaths to get the last bits of anger out of his system and he can rejoin Sigyn on the street. Lucky for him, she's right where he'd left her. She hadn't come looking for him. Who knows what he would have done if she had.

But there she is at a stall, purchasing fresh strawberries from one of the market's many vendors. He wraps them in a linen kerchief for her and she thanks the teller kindly.

Loki approaches from behind, placing a hand gently on her shoulder to get her attention. She spins around with a concerned look on her face.

"Is anything the matter?" She asks.

"Nay." He replies with a fake smile. "Tis just Arko. He needed to tell me something of great import. It couldn't wait, I'm afraid."

"I completely understand, but that's not what I mean." Sigyn clarifies. "I mean is anything the matter with YOU?"

Staring up at him, Sygin looks him square in the eye.

"The way that you're acting is so completely unlike you. And when we kissed... It just... It didn't feel right." She confesses, her eyebrows drawn together in worry. "Is something wrong? Did I DO something to-"

"NO." Loki interjects, placing both hands on her shoulders. "I swear upon my mother's soul, nay, you have done NOTHING wrong. And I am sorry for the way that I acted before. Truly, I am. Tis just that I had a long morning with the All-father, having discussions over various things. And I know it's no excuse. But I'm HERE now. One hundred percent. I give you my fullest attention. I'm just... I suppose I'm just nervous about this whole COURTING thing. And now I've gone and messed it all up, and... And I really do LOVE you and I want this to go perfectly and... May we just start over? Please? Don't hold this poorly against me. I would not wish for my less than prefect behavior to sway your decision."

He can tell that his words are working. Biting at her bottom lip, Sigyn hides a grin that's setting in.

" _Wellllll_..." She sing-songs teasingly.

Grinning ear to ear, himself, Loki swoops down to her level, nuzzling his nose into the crook of her neck.

"Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease..."

Sigyn breaks into a fit of laughter, swatting him off her.

"Fine! Fine!" She cries through her giggles. "Groveling does not suit you!"

"Nay. Nor has it ever. And yet here I am, groveling for you. My goddess. My queen." Loki croons to her sweetly. "On bended knee, I would kneel before you. Just say the words. I shall obey."

He takes her in his arms. His lips to her temple. Together they sway gently in the center of the busy marketplace as passers-by stare.

"You're embarrassing yourself." Sigyn whispers to him with a coy smile on her lips.

"That's nothing." Loki says mischievously in return. "Watch this."

There's something about love that makes one do crazy things. Just one look, just one touch and she's not only gotten him to forget about his run-in with the real Theoric, for now, but to forget himself, as well. He feels free of the burden of Loki. Free to be himself. Free to be free.

Removing his sword from his scabbard, the Shapechanger raises it high in the air to proclaim his affection.

"MY NAME IS THEORIC THE BRAVE AND I DO LOVE THIS WOMAN, SIG- _owowow._.."

Pinching his lips shut, Sigyn drags him away from the scene forming around them.

"Nothing to see here!" She exclaims, red in the face.

Hunched over uncomfortably, Loki's led by the tugging at his lips until they're nearly half a block over. Only then does she finally release him.

"Okay, you've made your point!" Sigyn tries to sound stern but can't help the giggle in her voice. "FINE! Let us start the day over and forget ANY of this ever happened, okay?"

"I'd love nothing more." Loki says with relief.

Now that the distraction has passed and calm has returned, Sigyn can finally get a good look at this Theoric. It's instantly apparent to her that something is amiss from before.

"Did you change your hair?"

With arched eyebrow, Loki looks at her confused.

"Your hair." She repeats. "Was it not earlier tied back in a braid?"

The Liar runs a hand through his free-flowing hair, kicking himself for not making note of the REAL Theoric's appearance. He DID have his hair drawn back. Loki was just too riled up to notice.

"I did, but decided to untie it." Loki fibs. "Tis too lovely a breeze on this day to keep it contained."

It would appear that she'd bought it. Luckily, Sigyn doesn't drag the issue out any further.

That was too close, he thinks. Not that he enjoys lying to her, but he's got to keep his lies in order. It's starting to get out of control.

"By the way, you look absolutely beautiful this morning." Loki adds, determined to sway the conversation away from his deceptions.

Reaching out, he cups her face gently. Sigyn tilts her head toward him, nuzzling her cheek into the palm of his hand.

Leaning forward, Loki dips to her level again. This time to whisper in her ear.

"Though I am rather partial to what you were wearing last night." He says with a naughty grin. "Or perhaps what you WEREN'T wearing."

Blushing, Sigyn swats him cross the chest.

"HEY!" Loki cries. Placing a hand to his heart, he feigns hurt. "I was paying you a compliment."

Sigyn juts out her hip, crossing her arms at her chest.

"If you call that a compliment then you're sorely mistaken." She says with a hint of a smirk.

It's so clear to see just how greatly she's enjoying his flirting. Not that he'd ever prided himself on being any sort of a Casanova, that's for sure. While Thor may have been the one to flex his muscles and make the ladies swoon, Loki always had an arsenal of words at his disposal. And while he may not have always had the most polite or proper thing to say, it certainly never hurts to be charming.

"I think you like getting hit on." Loki flirts with a grin.

"I think you like getting hit." Sigyn grins back in return.

Together, they begin to walk. He takes the first step and she follows. Side by side along the path lined with colorful vendors and carts.

"Like? Nay. Though tis known that I can take it." He begins. His mind wanders to his many battles with Thor. Not to mention that creature known as a Hulk. "Certainly I've had my fair share. And certainly I've had worse."

"And certainly you've deserved it, I'm guessing." Sigyn adds teasingly, taking a bite of one of the strawberries in her bundle.

Loki shrugs.

"Depends on who you ask, I suppose."

Plucking a juicy, red berry from her kerchief, Loki inspects the fruit in his hand.

"All I'm saying is, whether I deserve it or not, my flesh is accustomed to all the cuts and bruises that come with simply being ME. While my bones may be broken and mended, my heart..."

His words trail off, as does his walking cut short. Stopping mid-step, Loki stares at the ripe strawberry in the palm of his hand. His eyes fill with pain as his mind becomes lost to every hurt moment. From Odin's betrayal, the discovery of his parentage and birthright, to Frigga's death. From losing Sigyn once, to the thought of possibly losing her again. All such terribly dark thoughts. So deep a quagmire, it's easy to lose oneself if not for her light to shine through the darkness. To call him home.

Stepping before him, Sigyn retrieves the berry from his hand and places it to his lips, offering him a bite. Then, with the pad of her thumb, she gently wipes the stain away.

Her hand hovers there for a moment, feeling his cool breath on the tips of her delicate fingers. His intense eyes boring deep into hers. Until finally she speaks.

"You are not what you seem."

As a smith's daughter, she'd come to know many a soldier and yet never has she known a single quite like him. While most are good for simple conversation filled with stories of battle and women and ale, he fills her head with poetry and heart with intrigue. Theoric is an absolute mystery. For little does she know that he's not Theoric at all.

Taking her hand in his, Loki leads her palm to rest aside his cheek. Closing his eyes, he revels in the feel of her skin against his own.

"Looks can be deceiving." He says almost sad.

His heart sinks. He yearns so greatly to stay yet alas he must take his leave. There's much that he must tend to. Much behind the scene.

"I'm sorry but I'm afraid I must leave you now." Loki sighs in Theoric's voice.

"Arko?" Sigyn asks, remembering the Crimson Hawk from earlier.

"Aye. My apologies, m'lady." He replies. A lie. "Tis of dire importance. It cannot be helped."

Her ignorance equals both of their bliss. Should he wish to continue keeping her in the dark and happy, unfortunately there's a few of the more unsavory matters he must attend to. Such as what to do with the real Theoric. And the witch, Lorelei, as well.

"But I'd like very much to see you later." He continues, his tone perking up. "If you would join me for dinner?"

She smiles her understanding and says, "But of course. Until later, then."

If only she could truly understand. But he wishes nothing more than to keep her innocent of all that. To keep her clean of his burden. To keep her pure.

To him, she is perfection and he shall like to keep her that way. Unsullied by the bloodshed that is surely to come. Because bloodshed is a guarantee wherever Loki is involved. Blood and pain and tears. And death. Always.

To be Loki is a curse. To him and everyone around him. Were he a smart man, he would tell her to go. To live her life happy and be free of him. But he's not a smart man. He's selfish and arrogant and just plain stupid to think that he can keep her safe. Especially from him.

"Til later." He agrees.

Then with a kiss to her hand, he is gone.


	14. The Witch Of The Wood

**THE WITCH OF THE WOOD**

Long has the ram been a symbol of power. Of ultimate virility and strength. To wear the rams horns means to rule unopposed. To lead and not be led. To stand at the pinnacle of the animal kingdom, reigning high atop the lowly sheep. It is a symbol of status. Of nobility. But more importantly, it is a symbol of a wildness that cannot be contained. Untamed and fierce. And should you see the kingly ram take charge in your direction, tis best to turn the other way. And run.

Held proud upon his head, Loki wears his horns tonight. Those dreadfully heavy things that stand high atop his battle helm. Gilded and beautiful to look at, they are a reminder to all, he is a force not to be messed with.

Sure of foot, he carves his own path where others fear to tread. Deep into the woods of Norns he trespasses, led only by his increasing sense of dread. The trees of fruit and flower have long since turned to briar. Thick and winding of the sharpest, blackest thorns, they catch upon his coattails. Yet still, he presses. Each footfall feeling as if he be marching to his death.

The further and further into the forest he journeys, the more desolate the landscape becomes. The earth lies dry and barren beneath him, cracked and splintered like eggshells broken at his feet. There's no life besides the bramble. It grows high, creating a canopy above the wasteland of briar and bush, reaching ever upward to dare swallow up the sun. Creating a land where only darkness remains.

And when all seems lost and gone and the Prideful son has found his way to the center of the madness, there is a clearing with but a single tree. Survived on what little light may defy enter this dreadful place, it is stripped of whatever leafy cover it may have once adored. Now of gnarled root and snarling, ashen bark, tis truly a garish sight to behold.

On throne of thorn, she waits for him there, beneath the withered tree of yore. Amora. The Enchantress. Witch of the wood with her hair of gold and gown of green, she represents the only spot of color in this nightmare. Like a vampire, she's stolen the green from the branches and the gold from the sky. Sucked the life from this world, leaving such a colorless husk of a land in its stead.

Ever since he'd first found his way, long has Loki wondered on the state of this place. Like the chicken before the egg, tis a quandary to ponder. Was this land always as dead as it appears now? Or was it in response to the witch's dark magic? Was it Amora who'd brought curse to this world of endless night? Mayhap this earth was once fertile. A land of green with rivers and streams running through it. Where creatures of all size and species called as home. There's nothing now but withered vine and thorn. Cold and forgotten.

"Good day, my liege." Amora calls, bowing her head forward in mocking fashion. "To what do I owe the PLEASURE of your visit?"

Loki takes no pleasure in coming here and seeking out this witch. As troublesome as Lorelei can be, that's all she is, really. Trouble. The little whore simply wants for nothing more than to sleep her way to the top. To bask in the lap of luxury with little concern for the bigger picture. She's not one to get her hands dirty. But her elder sister, Amora? She's a class all her own.

While both sisters are quite beautiful and do so use their wiles to dominate the hearts and minds of men, twisting their every desire into that of their own, it is clearly Amora who is the brains behind the beauty. A most powerful sorceress known all throughout the realms for her mastery of magic, but most vexing yet, her mind-control abilities. Loki had to take great precautions on coming here this day just to meet with her.

"Oh, but the pleasure is all mine, dearest Amora." Loki plays along. His words heavy with sarcasm. "You are but a breath of fresh air on this lovely day we have here."

He extends his arms to motion towards the grey, depressing landscape of the enchanted forest. With the tilt of her head, the Enchantress offers a smirk.

"Ever the flatterer, dearer Loki." She says with feigned delight. "A charmer as always."

"Well, I do try my best."

Clapping his hands together, Loki sets to get down to business.

"Great. Now, then." He begins. "Seeing as we've gotten the matter of pleasantries out of the way, mayhaps it would be best to set about settling our agendum. Hm?"

"And what, pray-tell, IS your agenda, Loki?" Amora asks, intrigued. "As it certainly does not concern playing king, anymore. From what I gather, Lord 'ODIN' has been spending more and more time locked away inside his chambers. Poor heart. I do hope he's alright."

"What I do with MY time and MY kingdom is of no concern to you." Loki seethes, cutting the act.

Amora sighs.

"Well... So much for the friendly chit-chat." She says, pouting her perfectly plump lips. "And here I thought you'd stopped in for a bit of tea."

"Sorry love," Loki says, his tone dripping with venom, "but I don't take brew from bitches."

Giggling in sheer amusement, Amora begins to clap.

"Oh I DO so love this new improvement!" She squeals with glee. "Such FIRE in you! Such bravado! I must say, love does suit you so."

She shifts in her seat much like a cat, draping herself about the throne as if trying to seduce his senses. Or perhaps out of boredom. Or intrigue. Who knows what that wicked witch is scheming.

"But it couldn't possibly be my dear SISTER who has gotten your heart all a-flutter, could it?"

Her golden locks fall in gentle curls as she rests her head about the prickly armrest. Her eyes shine with a mischief he knows best.

"Nayyyy..." The Enchantress sings playfully. "Tis not a job for the weak at heart, OR stomach, to love such a creature as YOU. To think ANYONE would be capable of melting your cold, black heart... Tis no wonder Lorelei has been sulking as she has." She purrs. "I simply must meet with this beauty to have captivated you so. She must be truly something. Is that why you're here, is it? You wish for me to visit with her? Get into her head and MAKE her love you back? Mayhap a bit of potion-"

"You'll do no such thing." Loki interjects with a growl.

"OOOoooOOO... TESTY, are we?" Amora teases. "My, you really DO love her, don't you. How simply ADORABLE! Shall you make her your QUEEN? The new ALL-MOTHER of Asgard?"

Her sarcasm does not go unnoticed. Feeling the sting of her words, Loki's eyes fall to the forest floor.

"But she's not ODIN'S pet, is she? Nor Loki's." Amora sinks her teeth in. "Nay. Never Loki's. For she could NEVER be yours."

"You think that I don't KNOW that?" He shouts, losing his cool composure. "You think that I don't know that she will never be MY wife. That she will never be MY queen or even a princess? That she will never amount to anything more than the bride of a simple palace guard? A LIE?"

"That for all your pride, you will never truly own her." The Sorceress continues on where he'd left off, her words slow and somber. Giving them time to sink in. "Never will she carry YOUR name or bear YOUR children, as her heart will never truly belong to YOU. For all that you may hold her tight and stare longingly into her eyes, she will never look back. Because it will never be YOU that she is seeing. I'm sorry, Loki, but she does not love you. She never will as long as this charade continues on."

"This I know and more, for it is MY burden to bear. NOT yours." Loki replies, hiding the pain in his voice. "I will deal with it in my OWN way, all in my OWN time. And YOU and your quim of a sister will have NONE of it."

Getting down off her throne, Amora makes her way over to place a hand on his shoulder. A friendly gesture that is most unlike her. Like a spider caring for the fly.

"To be Loki is to RULE, not RUT." She reminds in a tone that is no longer playing. It is soft. Almost maternal. Dare he say, caring.

"Why can I not have both?"

Is it so hard to believe that he has actually found happiness? That maybe, just MAYBE he DESERVES a little satisfaction. That he deserves to be loved.

Shaking her head at his foolishness, Amora sighs and withdraws her hand from his shoulder.

"Is she worth it?" She asks, sounding tired.

Such a strange question, the query of ones worth. For some odd reason, Loki's mind travels back to an earlier conversation. To floating battleships held station in the sky. A woman in black with much red in her ledger. Making bargains with her world in the balance.

She'd said love is for children. And maybe she's right. Still, Loki can't help but smile and say, "Yes."

For Sigyn there are no bounds to what he would do and Amora sees it, too. Staring deep into his eyes, her emerald to his, like kindred spirits, she can tell quite clearly that what he says is true.

"What is it you've come here for?" The Enchantress finally asks.

It would seem the matter of pleasantries HAVE been gotten out of the way. Now is a time to sort their affairs.

"I've come to make bargain." Loki replies most determined. "I ask of your services this one final time. You may ask for anything you wish as payment, but when we are through, consider our contract as ended. I wash my hands of you and your sister."

"And what service do you require?"

Amora folds her arms across her more than ample chest, pushing them out front and center. A symbol of her sexual prowess. Her dominance.

"I have need of removing a certain... problem." Loki begins. "There is a man, the true vessel of the identity I've created."

Quick to catch on, Amora nods her head in understanding. She always was the brighter of the two sisters.

"For the lie to survive, the truth must die." She says simple enough. "And then you seek to pay off your debts? To be free of us once and for all?"

"Aye." Loki nods, his noble helmet moving seamlessly with the motion of his head. "Name your price."

To this, Amora smiles. A secretive little smirk that should instantly read 'danger', but Loki's in too deep to pray back out now.

With a swivel to her curvy hips, she makes her way back to her throne, kicking her legs over the side of the armrest as she reclaims her seat.

"I accept your proposal." The Sorceress decrees most high and mighty. "And as for payment, I and upon my sister's behalf, we shall perform this service to you free of charge."

An instant red flag to which Loki is most skeptical. If there's one thing he knows in this life it is this, NOTHING is free. Everything comes at a cost. ESPECIALLY when dealing with such ne'er-do-well women.

"So... What? You say to do this task out of the goodness of your blackened heart?" Loki laughs. "Clearly you're joking, woman!"

Amora doesn't seem amused. Again she shifts in her seat, this time sitting forward with both feet on the ground. Gripping her armrests, she glares at the God who dares laugh before her. Her eyes no longer shine with mirth, but something else. A pain that Loki too can understand.

"For what I do I have my reasons and my reasons are my own." She begins, most solemnly with but a hint of anger. "But believe me when I say that I too know what it is like to love another who shall never love me in return."

Loki swallows his laughter. The Liesmith can see quite clearly she means as she says.

"And what of your sister?" He asks. "This will not make her happy."

"Nor does my sister's happiness mean anything to me." Amora replies. "Though she may act as a child, with her simple mind and wicked ways, she is a grown woman and will deal with it as such. My decision is final. Like it or not, she will obey. And besides, I'm sure tis only a matter of time before she finds a new plaything to occupy her time."

That smirk returns to her dewy lips.

"But I do have one catch."

"Of course. How could it not?" Loki sighs with a bit of a roll to his eye. "What would a deal be without a catch?"

"Oh, stop your whining." Amora chides. "Tis only a SMALL one. Such a tiny thing! Nothing to worry over, at all."

"Then please, dear lady, do so HONOR me with the privilege of your so-called CATCH."

Arms crossed at the chest, Loki awaits the fine print. Just as he'd thought, NOTHING is truly free.

"There can be no survivors." Finally, Amora does speak.

"Well, sure. That's it?" Loki asks. He's shocked. Surely that cannot be all.

"That's it." She confirms. "Not a soul. Should even a single witness leave your slaughter, then our deal is forfeit. Not just the girl, but the ENTIRE KINGDOM will know what you've done. ALL of it. Down to every last detail. Are we understood?"

There are those who confuse the sign of the ram with the devil. Those of Christian blood who claim Midgard as their home. It's an honest mixup, really. Two big, long horns held proud atop his head. The Father of Lies. The Great Deceiver. Certainly, Loki can see the resemblance. For it's a Devil's bargain that he has made this day.

"Aye." He says with a strong will and strong mind.

And so it is settled. The deal has been made. And not without more blood to add to his ledger.

Amora leans herself forward, beckoning Loki in closer so she may divulge the details of her scheme.

"Very well, then." The Enchantress purrs deviously. "Then if I might make a suggestion, here is my plan..."


	15. Three Little Words

_**Ok, so this is a long one, but I just couldn't help myself!**_

* * *

 **THREE LITTLE WORDS**

Tables upon tables crowd the palace courtyard. Massive things made of sturdy timber, flanked by men thirty wide on either side. The women folk gather round to serve upon them mead and ale and wine. Filling their gullets with drink and the air with conversation. The moon shines down upon them as they spin their tales of harrowing battle long into the night. With only the orange, flickering flames of torchlight to see them through their journey.

At one such table, Sigyn sits. Tankard in hand, she listens to the salty tales of an old war captain. Laughing, she joins in the revelry.

These are her kind of people. Not at all the stuffy sort who parade themselves about in fancy dress, bound for ball or banquet. But REAL folk. The men and women and children who live and breathe Asgard. The very lifeblood of the Realm Eternal. They are what make this city TRULY great.

Two small boys race past. Brothers it would seem. Playing a game of chase, they hoot and holler with broad smiles upon their faces, snatching Sigyn away from her conversation. Wearing a fond smile of her own, the maiden follows the pair with her eyes, reminiscing of days long since past. A simpler time. A happier. So lost within her memories is she, the girl nearly spills her drink when she feels a tap upon her shoulder.

Turning her head to the left to see who might be calling, to her surprise, she's greeted with a bouquet of wildflowers. A turn to the right, reveals Theoric. HER Theoric. Not the real one at all.

With a smile to charm the devil, Loki opens his arms and she falls into them. Placing down her ale on the table, Sigyn hops up from her seat to greet her beloved with a hug and a kiss.

"So THIS is the guy, huh?"

The old battle-worn fellow who'd been seated beside her turns round to take a gander at the man pretending to be the Crimson Hawk, Theoric. Then, with a grunt, takes a swig of his drink.

"He ever break your heart, I'll break his bloody skull." He says protectively, nose deep inside his stein.

Loki recoils.

"Charming." He says with a sneer.

Laughing, Sigyn touches a hand to the old man's shoulder.

"Not if I break him first!" She returns, bending down to his level to offer a smile.

He lays his hand atop hers. A great big mit that fully encompasses her smaller one.

"You're much too good for the likes of him. Or any of us." He pats her hand resting on his shoulder before returning to his drink. "Alas, you've brought much joy to this old man's heart. A pretty girl with a kind smile means for much when you get to be my age. May you be as happy always as you are in this moment. And should he try to get fresh with ye..."

"I know just where to find you." Sigyn finishes his sentence before planting a kiss atop the old man's head. "Thank you for the conversation."

After biding her goodbyes, she returns to Loki's side, whose been watching the exchange with curious interest. Then, looping her arm within his, they leave to find a table less teaming.

Once seated, Loki holds up two fingers and a bar wench approaches. Splashing ale on the table, she drops down two tankards of beer for the pair and a round pewter tray piled high with some fair of meat and potato. Digging in his pocket, Loki tosses the maid a few copper coins and she departs.

"So..." He begins, tearing his fingers into what appears to be a roasted chicken. "An admirer of yours?"

Turning, Sigyn follows his eyes back to the table with the old man. She laughs, returning to face Loki.

"Jealous?" She teases.

"Should I be?" He plays in return, placing the meat in his mouth.

Sigyn giggles and grabs a roasted potato from their plate, bringing it to her lips.

"Oh yes." She jests. "I do so enjoy a more EXPERIENCED sort of fellow."

"I BET you do." He returns in kind. Though, while a part of him is joking, there's a part of him that's serious and dark. "Surely a PRETTY girl with a KIND smile, such as yours, has many an EXPERIENCED suitor. A whole LINE of callers eager to take your hand, back home."

Her smile drops.

"You really ARE jealous, aren't you." She states. It's no longer a question. "Please tell me you're not jealous of an old man."

Loki realizes his fault. He hadn't even meant to say such a thing. But as always his mouth has gotten him in trouble. Always speaking without thinking.

"No. Of course not." He groans a reply. "It... It has just been a very strange day."

He knows he's not jealous of the haggard, old man. Not really. If anything, he's actually come to grow jealous of HIMSELF.

First Lorelei and now Amora. Their words have really left their mark on him. Like a festering wound that's now spread. And the more they keep picking, the worse and worse yet it gets.

Sigyn will never belong to him. That for all her tender words and kind smiles, they will never be his. SHE will never be his. She's fallen in love with Theoric. The name Loki means little to her now. He doesn't exist. Nothing more than a fond and distant memory.

Which is exactly what he'd wanted, isn't it? To BECOME Theoric and marry Sigyn and live happily ever after in the lie that he'd created. That should be enough for him. Shouldn't it? To live out the rest of his days making her happy. Even if it means losing his identity and self along the way. A fresh start. A new beginning. But now... Now it feels as if he's dying. This secret is killing him.

And that's not all.

Loki stares down at their plate, rubbing the heel of his palm against his throbbing forehead.

"I just worry about you, Sigyn." Loki continues. "What if something happened to you while I was away? These people... This is not the sort of company a fine lady such as yourself should be fraternizing with. You could have been harassed by these ruffians or hurt or..."

Sigyn reaches across the table, laying her hand atop his to comfort him.

"Tis sweet you worry, really, but it is not at all necessary. You may be the protector of this palace, but you are not my keeper. I can take care of myself." Sigyn assures. "And these people? They're not as bad as you think. A bit rough around the edges, sure, but they're just people. Good, honest, hardworking people. You just have to give them a chance."

Loki must admit, he's seldom eaten or even socialized amidst the rabble. He'd typically take his meals alone or at the very least, within the palace walls. He finds not a single pleasing quality among these loud and odorous creatures. What she could possibly see in them...

"They've never had a chance for me." He replies in a somber tone.

"Have you let them?" She smiles. "I gave YOU a chance, didn't I?"

With a blank face, Loki stares off into the crowd as he loses himself deep in his own dark and brooding thoughts. It does not go unnoticed. Sigyn watches, her heart sinking, as he seems to disappear into this state of melancholy he's found himself in. His thin lips pull tight into a scowl. His eyes glaze over, losing that sparkle she now adores. So far away, he seems. Lost upon some vacant shore. Until she reels him back in.

"So... You asked about my other suitors." Sigyn breaks the silence. "You still want to know?"

Loki returns his gaze with piqued interest.

"You're right. I DID have many a suitor to ask for my hand." Sigyn begins, playing idly with a bit of food on their plate. "When I came to be of a marrying age and still no husband to call my own, my mother took it upon herself to find me a proper mate. You see, to her, there is no greater duty of a daughter than to marry and make her lots of little grand-babies, I suppose. Carry on the bloodline, or some such nonsense." She musters a smirk. "Anyway, every week she would provide for me a new prospect. And every week I would say nay. For an entire year."

"No." Loki says, becoming increasingly invested in her story. He folds his arms on the table and leans in closer.

"Yes." Sigyn half-laughs. It would be funny if it weren't true. "Oh, they'd come and woo and try as they might, it mattered for not. Most wouldn't even get the chance to climb down off their horses before I sent them away." A grin spreads wide across her face at a certain memory. "Why I remember one poor sod simply would not take NO for an answer. Though I suppose he'd not heard the word but once in his whole life... Well, long story short, he finally accepted my answer. Though it cost him the use of his arms in the process."

Ripping a wing off the roasted fowl, she begins picking at the meat.

"Suffice it to say, that was the final straw." She sighs deeply before placing the bits of vittles in her mouth. "I know my mother only wants what is best for me and she had the greatest of intentions, really, but... I do not understand what is so difficult for her to understand, SHOULD I choose to marry, I choose to marry out of love. NOT duty. She IS the Goddess of Love, after all. You think it wouldn't be so foreign a thing for her to comprehend." Sigyn pushes the plate away. She no longer has much of an appetite. "Alas, we're not on speaking terms at the moment."

Staring at the grain of the table, all the scars about the wood's surface from years of use and abuse, it would seem she too has now found herself lost in a sea of her own thoughts. But just as she had saved him from his darker realm, tis now his turn to bring her back ashore.

"And have you, yourself, ever loved another?" Loki asks.

He wants so badly to hear her say it. To confirm what nags at him so. That she did, indeed, love him. Just as he loves her now.

"Aye. Once." She recalls sadly. "As a child."

"And what happened?"

"I grew up." She replies simple enough. "As every child must."

The maiden takes a healthy swig of her ale to drown out her sorrows.

What she could say about her childhood is well enough to fill a book. DAYS worth of conversation. But that's not what she wants right now. To dwell upon the past. Tis best to keep the past where it belongs. In the past, well behind her. No use pondering the what-ifs and could-have-beens when the future, HER future, is sitting right in front of her.

"You know... It's funny. My mother would have adored you." She says, placing down her tankard.

"And what do YOU think?"

And just like that, a smirk returns to her lips. Not a full smile, but a spark. A playful hint of light beneath her forlorn surface.

"I haven't broken your arms yet, have I?"

To this, Loki breaks into a laugh and she joins him. Her cheery song floating high atop his deeper baritone.

He's never been so comfortable as when he's around her. It's as if all his troubles seem to just waste away. How effortlessly she has turned his foul mood around. To have brightened his world with her light. What she does is absolutely amazing in every way. Tis one of the reasons he loves her so. Her ability to bring a smile to his often dour face.

"And what of you, Sir Theoric?" Sigyn asks with a smile. Her eyes still filled with mirth. "Have you ever been in love?"

Through Theoric's eyes, Loki shines.

"But of course." He replies, his grin widening. "As I'm looking right at her."

Her cheeks flushed red, Sigyn laughs him off.

"Not NOW. I mean when you were YOUNGER." She corrects with a giggle.

Leaning back in his chair, arms folded, Loki stares at the sky as if pondering her question. He can't very well TELL her what he so longs to say. That he has ALWAYS loved her. Not just now, but since the beginning of memory.

"When I was younger... Unless you consider my mum..." He trails, thinking back. "Nope. Nope. If I'm to be truly honest, when I was a much younger man, there was none other that I loved more than MYSELF."

"And if you were to be truly honest," Sigyn teases, "you still love yourself yet!"

"NAY!" Loki acts offended. "I most CERTAINLY love you more. Just a smidgen, sure. But certainly more than thyself." He playfully rolls his head about his shoulders as if weighing the thought. "Ok... Maybe a close second. But it's a VERY close second!"

Sigyn laughs.

"What's with all this talk of matrimony, then? Why not just marry yourself?"

"Oh trust me, I tried." Loki spins a tale most tall. "Though I don't much have the hips for a dress. And as for the wedding night? Not nearly as fun."

"AHA! I knew it!" Sigyn grins, pounding her ale down on the table. "You only wish to marry me for the sex!"

"NAY! You twist my words, woman!" He extends an accusing finger at her. His eyebrow arched waggishly. "Tis not ONLY the sex I desire! You see there's an order to these things. First marriage. THEN sex. Then mayhap a light snack. Then sex again. Then we'll break for supper..."

"Then let me guess," Sigyn smirks, "MORE sex?"

"SEE! You've got it!" Loki exclaims, throwing his hands in the air triumphantly. "Of course, we'll have to throw a nice nap in there at some point, but... What I desire are only the most basic of things. Is that too much to ask for?"

And mayhap world domination, but that's beside the point.

"My oh my, it would seem you have our WHOLE honeymoon planned out." Sigyn giggles.

"What? A man must eat to keep his strength if I'm to give your mother lots and lots of grandbabies, yeah?" Loki feigns serious. "I may be a workhorse, but I'm not a machine! I must REST! What more do you WANT from me, woman?"

By now, Sigyn's nearly rolling off her seat in laughter. Clutching her side, she gasps, trying to catch her breath as she laughs and laughs some more.

"Admit it, you only want me for my body." Loki continues on. "And here you are trying to paint ME as some sort of pig, when it is YOU who subjects me so! Denying me of food and rest..."

"HEY! I deny you of no such thing!" Sigyn perks up from her laughing fit. Playing along, she acts offended.

"Then you'll allow me my meals and sleep?"

"But of course!"

"And sex?" Loki is keen to slip in.

He's twisted the conversation to just where he wants it, as his silver tongue is prone to do. But Sigyn's no fool. With a sideways glance and a knowing smirk, she glares at him most puckishly. Just as he stares back with eyes of mischief.

"You put words in my mouth." She replies with a grin.

"Nay, nay, nay..." Loki jokes. "You see, tis the part where you're supposed to say 'but of course!' then I say 'right now, then?' and we slip away then to the woods or some such where we have at it like rabbits!"

Again, Sigyn laughs. She can't remember the last time she'd been so delighted as this. To have a beer and a laugh and not a care in the realm. To let her guard down and give in. To feel love again. To feel desire.

He's rude and obscene and yet somehow gentle and kind. With a deepness to him that knows no bounds. A sadness that grips at her heartstrings and pulls her in tight. And that smile. Those eyes...

Tis such a terrifying thing to fall in love. It comes at you when you least expect it and from the most unassuming of places. Just when you've closed off your heart and shut out the world, it returns with a fury. And there's nothing you can do to stop it. Try to resist, but resistance is futile. Love will always win.

"Tell me something about yourself, Theoric." Sigyn swoons. Chin in her hand, she stares at him lovingly. "Something you have never told another living soul."

Loki glances up from his tankard of beer to catch her looking at him with such infatuation. He smiles and raises his cup.

"Something I have never told another soul, eh?" He replies. "To be true, I don't much care for the taste of ale."

"Nay, that's not what I mean." She returns, tossing a slice of potato at him. "Be honest!"

"Honest? I AM being honest!" He chuckles. "I DESPISE beer. Give me wine or spirits any day, but beer? I'm only drinking now with you out of fear it would make me look less of a man if I chose not to."

"I'm serious, Theoric." Sigyn pleads. "All joking aside."

Loki and honest have never much gotten along. To say the least, it's a difficult concept for the Liesmith to comprehend. But a challenge he's willing to accept.

"Honest..."

He rubs at the back of his neck anxiously. Where to begin...

The honest truth is, the old man was right, Loki does not deserve her. Should Sigyn really wish to learn something about himself that he's never told another living soul before, all joking aside, it is this. He hates himself. He despises all that he is. He fears he will never be fully capable of loving her because he cannot fully love himself. That he has done a great many things that he is not at all proud of. Things that had brought his mother nothing more than a great deal of shame. And he fears he will do the same to her.

With a sigh, he sets down his tankard softly on the table.

"My mother died thinking I'd hated her." Loki replies honestly, his eyes set square with hers. "It was just before the Dark Elf invasion. We'd had words and, like always, I'd said things I now regret."

Looking inward, he recalls their final conversation. The very last thing he'd told her. He had denied her as his mother.

"I know what it's like to be a great disappointment. And you are no such thing." He continues in rare wisdom. "I stake no claim in who is right and who is wrong, but you should make amends with your mother. If I could go back..." His voice starts to break. Quickly, he looks down at his ale, trying to keep his emotions in check. "If I could go back, I would tell her I love her. And I'm sorry. But one never knows what tomorrow might bring. That those we love may be taken at a moments notice. All without warning."

Loki takes another bitter swig of his beer. Though it hurts to let air that wound, it feels good to have said it aloud. To have shared that with her.

"And what of you?" The Shapechanger asks, placing down his drink. "I think it only fair you share a secret for a secret."

In reply, Sigyn gets up from her seat to lean far across the table. Far enough to reach Loki on the opposite side. Straining her neck, she gives her lover a kiss.

"Though well received, I think it hardly a secret." Loki teases, smiling into her lips. "It has to be something HONEST, remember? Something you've never told another before."

Her eyes flutter open to catch him staring. Nose to nose. Forehead to forehead. So close, they share one breath. And in that one breath, she says...

"I love you."

The sweetest words that ever were spoken. Three little words, and she speaks them to him.

As a sorcerer, Loki knows that all words have power. A well-placed term or certain phrase can spell certain victory on any given day. A single letter out of line and you're doomed. And yet in all his years of word-smithery and lies, never has he come across any words as meaningful as these. So small and simple. Fragile and held so close to one's heart. But if and when given, it becomes the most powerful thing in all the known universe. Something to live for. Something to die for. Something to kill for. And that's just what he intends to do.

She says those three little words to him and his mission is renewed. All his doubts have been erased. Because for her love, there is nothing he won't do.

Spilling his amber elixir, Loki jumps up from his seat. Nearly leaping across the table to pull her into a much amorous, and public, kiss.

"You'll marry me, then?" He asks into her cheek. With his hands on either side of her face, he weaves his fingers in her hair.

"The week is far from over yet." Sigyn replies with a playful smirk.

"And the sex?" He whines. "Must I wait for that too?"

Sigyn breaks into laughter.

"You are a most persistent man, you know that?" She giggles in his ear. "There's an order to things. YOUR words. Remember?"

Making a sour face, he scrunches his nose at her. Giggling further, she kisses the very tip of it.

"I did say that, didn't I..." He groans.

"Aye. You did." She says sweetly. "All in good time."

He arches an eyebrow.

"A good time, eh?" Loki says most mischievously, twisting her words yet again.

Rather than coming around, he presses straight forward, up and over the table. His boots clomp loudly over thick timber as he makes his journey to the other side to join her.

"Wait... W-Wha..."

Men and women halt their feasting, staring at the pair as Loki, in the guise of Theoric, takes his woman by the waist and hoists her over his shoulder. Carrying her like some brutish barbarian would carry prize game.

Though she shrieks in laughter and pounds at his back, still, he carries on towards the castle.

"Oh, I shall show you a good time!"

* * *

 _ **A/N: Sooooo... I've been thinking of making the next chapter a little bit... DIRTY? Thoughts? On a scale of 1 to 10, PG to MATURE? Lemme know! And while you're at it, send in those reviews! It's getting lonely over here...**_


	16. Alive

**ALIVE**

She does something to him he can't explain.

It's not like Lorelei and her temptations of the flesh. Or Amora and her promises of power. It's something else. Something REAL. Tis nothing like the empty vows their hollow hearts can afford.

Sigyn gives him a wealth unlike any other. She gives him love. REAL love. A love he can feel deep inside his skin. In his veins and in his heart. Through and through, she is his soul. Something he hadn't even realized he'd been missing til he found her.

Loki had always thought himself to be an introvert of character. Guarded. Reserved. Conflicted and precise. But she coaxes him out of his shell unlike anything other. She invigorates him. Brings him alive. Makes him do foolish things. As a fool in love is bound to do.

Like singing high atop his lungs as he carries her about the palace courtyard. Swung over his shoulder like some Mountain Troll's bride, she giggles and squeals as the fine Lords and Ladies look on in strange amusement at the pair. Oh, how they whisper and pretend not to stare. Hands to their lips in feigned politeness.

To them, Loki pays no mind. He simply continues on, bellowing old tavern songs of his youth. Songs he may have sung but once or twice with a brother who is not his brother. At a time which is no more. He sings them now, not because he is drunk or in the company of friends, which he has none, but sings to celebrate the battle won. And when one is as doomed to lose as Loki, then one must celebrate every victory they can get. No matter the size.

" _I'll swim and sail on savage seas with ne'er a fear of drowning. And gladly ride the waves of life if you will marry me._ "

Though it feels strange singing through another man's lips and with another man's voice, throughout the halls, his voice rings loud, echoing off grand slate and marble.

" _No scorching sun, nor freezing cold will stop me on my journey. If you will promise me your heart and love me for eternity._ "

He stops outside her chamber door. A pair of maids scurry past, giggling amongst one another as the gallantly dressed Crimson Hawk lowers Sigyn back down to her feet.

Once safely transported, only then does he stop his boisterous singing, though he's not through yet.

Belly to belly, he bridges the gap between them, softly pressing her back against the doorway. Sigyn tilts her head as he runs his fingers through her hair, trying his best to fix what he'd messed. A smile on her lips, she closes her eyes as he leans in to sing softly in her ear.

" _I would bring you rings of gold, I'd even sing you poetry. And I would keep you from all harm if you would stay beside me._ "

Opening her eyes, she looks at him in such a way he's never had another look at him before. It's a look he's seen in others many times before, but never thought it would ever be for him.

Never in his wildest dreams had he hoped for someone like her to love him.

His fingers trace along the shell of her ear, following their way down the side of her face to that sweet spot just beneath her jawline. That spot where the skin is most tender. Where her pulse jumps at his fingertips. Yet still they sink further. Gliding swiftly along her collarbone, how her lips do tremble at his touch. She squeezes shut her eyes again. Her ample chest rising and falling deeply as he finally comes to a rest just atop her cleavage. His palm flat against her milky skin so he may feel her heartbeat there.

Again, he leans in. This time to ask something of her.

"Please..." He whispers in her ear. "Say it again?"

He needn't even explain what it is he wants of her to say. Opening her eyes, she can read that need all over his face. That desperation. The hint of tears misting in his eyes.

She needn't even think a second thought. So readily, she gives to him what he so desires. What he longs to hear. The truth.

"I love you."

Beneath his hand, he can feel it true. How her heart does beat for him and him only. It's everything he wants and more.

Feeling tears forming, Loki closes his eyes and dips his head forward to rest his forehead against hers. Sigyn reaches upward, her nimble fingers raking through the hair falling loosely at the nape of his neck. Gently grabbing hold, she slowly leads him towards her lips.

"I love you."

Over and over, she repeats those three words, breathing them into his lips and his skin and his hair and into his heart. As old as he gets and as long as he lives, he will never grow tired of hearing her say it. And he can't get enough.

With great hunger, he engulfs her sweet lips, swallowing her sweeter yet words with such fervor. Beneath his hand, her chest heaves so heavily, panting as his kiss does roam, straying down her throat. Pinned between he and the door, Sigyn hangs her head back, allowing him full access to explore the delicate skin of her neck.

It's a surprise even to herself. Not that she's a priss, by any means, but Sigyn had always considered herself to be such a good girl. Always playing by the rules. Never straying from the path. The straight and narrow. But he does something to her. Awakening this wildness in her she didn't even know that she had. He makes her feel alive. More alive than she's felt in such a very long time.

He makes her knees shake and her head dizzy. Her chest feels tight, too tight to breath. And she likes it. By the gods, does she like it so. Never has she felt like this before and she craves more. She can't get enough. That pit in her stomach. That ache in her loins. It's like her whole body is thrumming, electric beneath his kiss.

So strange how his lips could be so cool and yet they leave her feeling so much heat. Her whole body feels hot. Between her legs, especially. He parts his lips, that cold tongue swiping gently up her earlobe and she just about loses it. Her knees buckle. Surely she'd fall to the floor if she weren't pressed so firm against the doorway.

Another group of looky-loos pass by, giggling to themselves at the pair's most public display of affection. It makes Loki draw back. As much as it pains him, he must remember his place. He'd rather be bound to a great rock and have boiling hot snake venom poured into his eyes than to bring Sigyn shame. To make her the talk of the town like some cheap whore when she is so much more than that. She is so much higher above him. Above ANY of them.

"I... I should be going." He sighs.

Sigyn looks up at him, her hand still coiled tightly in his hair. His hand still at her heart.

"What was all that talk, then?" She laughs. "You'd spent the whole day convincing me to lay with you, and what? You leave me wanting?"

Loki smiles into her hair.

"You'll find, my dear, I'm mostly talk." He replies with a playful hint to his tone. "It was all in jest. I do not want you to think I have pressured you."

"And I am not a child." She replies back, a bit hurt. "I can make my own decisions."

"And mistakes."

Her eyes search his as if searching for an answer.

"And are YOU a mistake, as well?"

Yes, he thinks.

"No." He replies. "Tis just that your first time should be something special. Not like this. When I take you as my wife, and I WILL take you as my wife, I want it to be perfect for you. And it WILL be. I PROMISE."

Loki kisses the top of her head sweetly. Closing his eyes, he whispers, "Sunshine..." If only for himself to hear.

"But if I do not leave you now, I'm afraid I won't be able to resist myself." He continues, stroking her hair.

"Then DON'T resist yourself." She replies.

"Did you not say there was an order to these things?" He retorts.

"They were YOUR words." She reminds.

"Which became yours."

Back and forth the argument goes. Never has Loki been so evenly matched. She's just as quick-witted as he and with an equally sharp tongue. Twisting his words as he dares to twist hers.

"What happened to not sleeping with strange men?" The Shapechanger asks with a grin.

"Are you strange, now?" Sigyn teases.

"Oh, most definitely, my dear. The strangest." Loki teases in return. "And selfish and rude and cunning and wily and dare I say, a bit psychotic. And those are just a sampling of my more pleasant qualities."

"Then allow me the privilege of your LEAST pleasant qualities."

Loki chuckles to himself, shaking his head slightly. Oh, if only...

"You REALLY don't want to see such a thing." He half-jokes. "I can really be quite frightful."

"Then you've no idea what frightful even is." She jokes, as well. "Just wait until you've met my mother."

He takes her chin in his hand, angling her face upward to look her straight in the eyes.

"Why the sudden interest?" He asks.

"Why the sudden lack there of?" She asks in kind. "Just earlier you were practically begging."

"Okay. ONE, I do not beg." Loki plays. "And TWO, just earlier were you not revolted at the thought you MAY have accidentally slept with me the night before? I believe you called the idea AWFUL? Your words."

"And it would have been!" Sigyn plays along with him, giggling. "And it would be awful still had I not fallen so HOPELESSLY in love with you."

Taking his hand resting at her heart, Sigyn moves it to her breast. Hanging his head, Loki grins like the devilish imp he is

"Tis like you said." The girl says most kittenishly. "You can be VERY convincing.".

Here he is, trying to play the good guy. Mayhap for the first time in his whole entire life, he's trying to refrain from giving in to those naughty little voices that urge of him to do as he so likes, consequences be damned. And here she is, the ultimate in temptation. She needn't even use any magic to work her spell over him. Just one look, one word and he's hers.

Playing the good guy is overrated, anyhow.

"You are making this most difficult."

"Then the simple reasoning would be to stay."

Her free hand reaches for the handle at her back. Opening her chamber door, the Maiden invites the Darkly Prince inside.

And so he stands at odds with himself. As Sigyn takes a step back into her bedroom chamber, giving him that come-hither look, an internal battle rages on inside a much conflicted Loki. One by one, she removes the pins in her already ravaged hair, letting it down and loose around her shoulders. A sea of golden waves, cascading well below her breasts. And one by one, he is losing this fight.

He knows he shouldn't, but he's never been one to do what is good and right. And yet she's his friend. His better. His soul. His heart. She is his everything. Sweet little Sigyn. So pure and clean and innocent and... shedding her dress.

Loki takes a step inside and closes the door behind him.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Ok, I stole Loki's folk song from How To Train Your Dragon 2. It's called 'For The Dancing And The Dreaming'. I just love that song so much and thought it applied so perfectly here! Especially since in the comics, Loki tries to woo Sigyn with a pile of gold :P**_

 _ **As for the naughty bits... I've got something 99% written up, just not sure if I should go big or scale it back a bit. Any input would be helpful. Let me know you're interested in this story.**_ _ **Reviews keep me writing and keep this story going!**_

 _ **xoxo**_


	17. Closure

_**Have all the little ones scampered off to bed, then? Off to dream their dreams of faeries and dragons and other such sugar-fueled delights?**_

 _ **The Weary Father takes his seat down by the fire. Adding another log to the crackling hearth.**_

 _ **I'll just wait here whilst you go check.**_

 _ **...**_

 _ **Oh, they are, are they? No lying, now. Best they not be peeking, lest I know a very hungry Hel Wolf who would be more than delighted to gobble up such sweet little scamps.**_

 _ **...**_

 _ **You swear it? Well... Very well, then let us begin.**_

 _ **The following is rated MATURE for most obvious reasons.**_

 _ **You've been warned.**_

* * *

 **CLOSURE**

The door closes behind him with a soft click. Reaching behind, he's sure to secure the latch, though he has no idea why. It's not as if anyone would be foolish enough to enter her chamber unannounced and at this hour. Mayhap it is to keep himself locked inside. To keep him from retreating.

"Here... Let me."

Taking his place at her back, Loki begins unlacing the corseting to her dress. He gently sweeps her hair to one side, his slender fingers playing about her bare shoulder. He plants a kiss there. Then another. Slowly sliding the material down her arm with the palm of his hand as he presses his lips to her further exposed flesh.

When the dress does fall, it spills around her feet in a pool of amethyst and gold. Though she's hardly undressed. Thus is the trickery of women's clothing. There's always another layer to unwrap before revealing the present waiting inside. And like a present, he should be as excited as a child on a crisp, clear Jul morn. Yet after removing her of her undergarments, that's when he realizes just how nervous he actually is. Which is a feeling he's not quite accustomed to. Anxious? Sure. He'd been anxious before, as he guided the Frost Giants through the catacombs of the palace. Eager? Of course. As he felt while leading the charge of the Chitauri across the stars. But nervous? Afraid? His fingers are practically trembling.

Never has he cared for anything as much as he cares for her. Sure, he's wanted plenty. As with the throne of Asgard. He cares for the crown, but it's just not the same. Not as he cares for her. He cherishes her like none other.

Almost protectively, Loki wraps his arms around her midsection, drawing her in close to his body. He leans forward, placing his head inside the crook of her neck, his chin resting on her shoulder. The Liesmith closes his eyes, just holding her for a while. Enjoying the feel of her held safe in his arms. Then, after a moment, he draws the strength to move around to her front, where he finally gets the chance to see her true. In all her glory. Which she most certainly is. Glorious.

Her astounding beauty is enough to bring a grown man to his knees. And he does. Right at her feet, Loki falls, kneeling before her.

"My Goddess..."

With bountiful breasts and luscious, full hips, she not the little girl that he once knew. And yet there is this innocence about her. This delicateness. This goodness that can't help but shine brightly through her porcelain veneer.

He rests his head to her soft stomach, hoping against all hope that maybe somehow all that goodness could so possibly rub off onto him. That she could make him clean again. If just a little bit.

Smiling warmly, Sigyn stares down at him, stroking his hair with her hand.

"Is everything alright, my love?" She asks, concerned at his sudden change in mood. He'd been so boastful and cocky earlier, and now he acts as if he's found some small deliverance of his sins. Which unbeknownst to her, he has.

Nuzzling his cheek to her silken skin, Loki touches his hands to the small of her back. Tears well inside his eyes.

"You have no idea how much I love you." He says softly. "There are no words..."

His chin to her navel, he stares up at her with that smile she adores, making her smile back at him.

"I will show you."

A small sound of surprise escapes her lips as he unexpectedly rises and sweeps her off her feet. Carrying her in bridal fashion, Loki ceremoniously places her down on the bed with great care. He then climbs atop the silks and furs to join her.

Removing Theoric's trademark red cape and Crimson Hawk coat, Loki strips himself down to only his leather pants, casting aside all other articles of clothing to the floor at the foot of the bed.

Laying on her back, Sigyn watches as he does so with great interest. Her eyes taking in the architecture of his body. She can't help but notice what lean musculature he has. More svelte than she'd expected of the Commander, but then again, she'd never been one to fancy a man with great, bulging muscles, anyhow. He's certainly no Thor, that's for sure. But that suits her just fine.

Stretching her arms above her head, the maiden realizes that she's never been this exposed to another before. This vulnerable. It's frightening and exhilarating all at the same time. To be this helpless, at the mercy of another. Stripped of cloth and weapon. Anticipating the battle that is sure to come, whilst lacking the experience of the plan. To say the least, it's exciting. She wonders why she'd never done this sooner. But then his eyes catch her staring. He smiles a timid little smile and she knows why. She hadn't done this before because she'd been waiting for this moment. For him.

Once finished disrobing, Loki takes her legs in his hands, opening herself to him. But instead of mounting atop her, he simply sits himself between them. She looks at him with apprehension, unsure what's to come next, but he merely offers a smirk.

"My Goddess..." He repeats again, kissing her kneecap. "Please allow me to pay worship."

Sitting himself up on his knees, Loki takes her foot and draws it to his thin lips. His eyes bore deep in hers, never blinking as he drags his tongue across her sole, from heel to the very tips of her pretty, little toes.

How she squirms within his grasp, but he holds tight to her as he worships her feet. A broad smile on her face as he suckles her big toe. That wicked tongue of his flicking at the space between.

Sigyn nibbles at her lip whilst rubbing at the bulge in his pants with her free foot.

"I... I rather like that." She manages through the pleasure as he begins massaging at her calves.

"Yeah?" He groans, grabbing hold of that pesky free foot of hers.

To that frolicsome footie, he offers the same tribute as its mate til finally her little giggles turn into that of mewls for more. At which point, he moves on to her legs, which are just as in need of his worship.

"You're enjoying this..." Sygin grins as he lays a trail of kisses up her calf.

"But of course." He grins in return. "Aren't you?"

Her knees instinctively clench together tight as he makes his way up to her thigh. She closes her eyes. A pleasant little moan sings from her lips.

"I'll take that as a yes." Loki's grin widens as he rests his chin atop a knee.

Taking her thighs in his hands, he spreads her open. Not at all forceful, but delicately. Splayed wide as a butterflies wings.

He ducks himself low. His eyes never leaving that of her face as he nuzzles at her inner thigh. He wants to see. Wants to witness what he does to her. All that glorious pleasure he bestows her with. All that ecstacy as he lays a single kiss atop the pearl of her flower.

Her whole body seems to melt. Head tilted back, she inhales sharply as he runs his tongue along her juicy slit.

It feels colder than she'd ever imagined, but then again as are his kisses, so what did she expect? Like ice as his tongue encircles her divide.

And she's so warm. He can feel it in his bones. That heat radiating from her milky skin. He wants to wrap himself inside that warmth to drive his frigid cold away.

Loki lays her legs upon his back, her thighs cradling his head as he pleasures her. Lapping at her folds as a kitten would to milk. So creamy and sweet. By the gods, he loves her taste.

He presses a thumb to her opening. Her body stiffens at the new sensation, but he coaxes her to loosen with a bit of extra lip service. After which it slides easily into her slick, wet sex.

Her thighs shudder at his cheek when he adds yet one more thumb. Once inside, he draws the two apart, widening her entrance so that she may recieve him. While a runt in stature he may be, he's still quite the giant where it counts.

Not soon after do his naughty thumbs begin to play, does she succumb to rapture. And he's sure to document every delectable second of it in great detail. Burning it into the back of his brain. Taking immense pride in his accomplishment as she comes to climax.

Oh the sounds she makes is such sweet music to his ears. And every tremor of her body, a symphony.

Removing himself from the confines of her lovely legs, Loki slowly crawls atop her, like a cat out on the prowl. Sigyn digs her fingers in his hair as he attends to her neck with his affections.

She's still so very much riding the high he's given her. Her body tingly all over in such euphoric bliss. Biting her lip, her head lolls about the pillow. Loki nibbles at her earlobe, reciting sweet nothings as he begins work on the removal of his pants.

It's then that he presents himself to her. Opening her eyes, Sigyn sits herself up slightly, propped on an elbow as she looks him over with such lust-filled eyes.

"I've never... May I?" The Maiden asks eagerly.

Her hand reaches for his firm manhood, though stops, hovering as she awaits permission.

"Have at it. It is yours to do with as you like." The God of Mischief jokes to cut the awkward tension. "Worry not, it does not bite. Spit, on the other hand..."

His eyes roll back as she takes hold. Her small hand gripping his mighty shaft firmly as if reaching for her sword. Perhaps a bit TOO firmly. He nearly comes right there and then.

"Quite the grip on you." He jests, taking hold of her wrist.

"I'm so sorry! I-"

"No, no. I like it! _Juuuust_... A little TOO much, yeah?" He smiles sheepishly. "I... _um_... You've got me quite excited. I'm afraid this won't last long."

And there's the nerves again.

It feels as if he's a boy all over again, all bumbling and with butterflies in his stomach. How long has he wanted her? How many nights had he dreamed of this moment? And here it is. The moment made realized. And she's so terribly beautiful. More beautiful than his dreams could ever capture. More beautiful than he even deserves. While he? He's wearing another man's face. And not a terribly attractive one, at that.

Loki thinks back to his first time. How awkward he had felt then, as well. That night of his sixteenth birthday. Thor had taken him to the tavern to celebrate. And paid some wench to make his baby brother a man.

This is hardly his first romp, or second, or third, and yet it's the first time it has actually meant something to him. The first time it's mattered. Because while all others have been cheap and meaningless, this is the first and only time he's ever done it out of love. And that's downright terrifying. To make love to another. To not just give your body, but your heart and soul, as well. Your all.

"We can stop now, you know." He says seriously. "You don't have to-"

Sigyn presses her lips to his and he instantly quiets. Forehead to forehead, her eyes stare in his, giving him all the answer he needs.

With a nod, he whispers to her lips, "I love you."

And without another word, he takes her.

Loki lies her back and climbs on top, resting himself between her thighs. He positions himself at her entrance and she grips at his side, readying herself for the pain to come. And it does.

A flash of color shoots across the backs of her eyelids. She squeezes shut her eyes. It's like nothing she's ever felt before. A searing pain, not much different than being stabbed with a dagger. White hot, as if straight off the forge. And in her most delicate of places. It feels as if she's being ripped apart.

Her back arches sharply beneath him. Like claws, her fingers dig into the fleshy part of his side and grip tight into his hair. With strong hands, Loki keeps her steadfast in his arms. Held safe and secure as he enters her.

Inch by agonizing inch, he runs her through. From the very tip of his sword, right down to the hilt, until finally their bodies connect. He lets out a satisfying groan.

It's then that Sigyn finally exhales. She hadn't even realized she'd been holding her breath all this while. Her chest heaves beneath his. Her lungs feel as if they are on fire, which is strange since her skin feels as if she's been lying naked in the snow.

Loki can feel something breaking inside her. Those virgin walls giving way to make room for his intrusive girth. And she feels so good. TOO good, in fact. So tight and warm and wet. He holds himself steady inside her. His hips rocking just ever so slowly, enjoying the comforting feeling her body does bring him. Like being wrapped inside a warm blanket. He's surrounded by her heat and her scent and her arms and legs around him. She's his cocoon. A safe place where he can hide himself inside of. Where the realm outside can't find him.

Sigyn moans into his neck and he swears he can feel it pulse throughout his body. The most glorious of feelings. He moans his reply.

Supported on his elbows, Loki looks down onto her. Lovingly brushing the stray hairs from her face with his fingers.

"How are you fairing?" He asks softly, stroking her cheek with such care.

Sigyn opens her eyes to catch him staring. It's odd, she thinks, but he looks different than before. The room may be dark, lit by the golden glow of oil lamp and the setted sun, but his complexion looks... different. Paler. And his eyes more green than ever. Still, she thinks nothing of it. Just closes her eyes again and nods as he lays a kiss to her neck.

Her grip on him begins to loosen. As does her entire body as the pain gives way to pleasure. No longer so rigid, Sigyn begins reciprocating his movements, grinding her hips against his pelvis in a slow circular motion. A parry to his thrust.

And so the duel begins.

Loki sits upright on his knees, removing himself from her as he repositions himself. He then takes her thighs in hand and enters her again. This time with more force. And unlike before, this time his action is met with a great pleasure-filled moan. A song of passion from her lips.

It doesn't take long for the pair to find their rhythm. A sensual and steady beat to which she bucks beneath him with every thrust. Slow and hard, he pumps into her strong and with such intensity. Leaning forward, Loki wraps his arms around her torso, bringing her up with him to sit up on his lap. Allowing her to take the lead. To rule atop him.

Suffice to say, it comes naturally to her. Not only to lead, but to lead HIM. For their bodies to connect this way. For their hearts to beat as one. It's as if they were meant to be together. Since the dawning of time. Since all of creation before gods roamed the realms. As are they destined. To this duel. To this dance. To this love.

She would call him her Lock. He who locked his world away. Who kept all his emotions and all those little secrets stored away so safely. But every lock has a key. And if he's to be her lock, then certainly she is the key to his salvation. She is his hope. Whatever hope is left for him.

Parting her lips, Sigyn offers him a blessing in her kiss. Her mouth connects with his. Her tongue dancing in his head as she strattles him. She breathes delightful little gasps and mewls into his kiss as her hips rise and fall to meet his.

Loki holds her tight against him. Her breasts pressed firm against his smooth chest. He clasps the back of her head in the palm of his hand. His fist balled loosely in her golden hair.

From out of the corner of his eye, Loki spots their reflection in the mirror at her dressing table across the room. He nearly leaps from his skin at the sight.

His enchantment has worn. The illusion, gone. The closer he finds himself to climax, the harder it becomes to maintain his spell. Such things require concentration and right now the only thing he's concentrating on is how sweet her tongue tastes as it twists around his liar's mouth. How hot her breath feels against his frost-cold lips. That jiggle to her titts as she slides up and down his giant, Jötnar cock.

He watches as she rides him in their reflection in the glass. Thinking how good she looks on him. How good they look together. Not she and Theoric. But she and Loki. It's about the last thought he can cognitively make before his thoughts go hazy. Before he gives in to her sex. He can hold out no longer.

Gripping the back of her head, Loki is sure to keep her face close to his. Too close for her to see that he is no longer the same man she'd gone to bed with. Of course he's not thinking long term. That if he plans to continue doing this most every day and every night til the rest of eternity, that he's going to have to think up a more clever solution. But right now's not a time for thinking. As he presses his mouth to hers, he groans deep and gravelly into her lips. Screwing shut his eyes as his seed spills betwixt her thighs.

Spent and exhausted, his body tenses, then stills. As has she slowed her movements to a gentle rocking, still enjoying the feeling of him held deep inside her. They've yet to disconnect. Which is fine by him. Even if it may be over, he doesn't wish for this feeling to ever end.

Loki brings his sweated brow to her bosom, hiding his real face from her. Ever the nurturer, Sigyn gently hugs her arms around his head, cradling him as she softly strokes his hair.

"I love you." She sighs as she rests her chin atop his raven hair.

He's afraid to speak as she won't recognize the voice as her Theoric's. Still, disguising his voice the best as he can, he just has to ask.

"Why?"

She looks down at the crown of his head, trying to see his face, but he keeps it well hidden.

"Why do I love thee?" Sigyn asks, panting. "Why give myself to you so freely?"

He nods his head and she smiles, returning to tending to the tangles in his hair.

"Why does the sun shine?" She offers as her reply. "Because it does. As do I. I love you because my heart tells me there is no other way. Because when I am with you, all is as it should be. Because it feels right. Like this was meant to be."

Gathering a small section at the side of his head, she weaves a braid into his hair.

"I love you because despite what you say of yourself, I know you are not as ugly as you think." She continues, tying off his braid with a thread of her own hair. "Inside your heart there is such beauty. If only you could see it as I do, then you would know why it is I love you so."

Shrouded in silence, they remain locked in embrace. She holding him so sweetly and he white-knuckled, clung to her as if afraid for his life to let go. Afraid that if he were to open his eyes, he may wake from this precious pure dream. That if he were to speak, he may fall apart completely.

A single tear streams down his cheek. Then another. Concerned, Sigyn bends, tilting her head so she may get a better glimpse of him.

"Theoric? Are you alri-"

" _Sov godt_."

Before she has a chance to spot him, Loki weaves a spell to stop her. With what little energy he's got left, the sorcerer has just enough to keep her from discovering his secret. And not a moment too soon.

Sigyn's body slumps against him. Drifted off to slumber in his arms.

Keeping her close, Loki lays her down gently on the silken sheets, wrapping her in a fur throw to warm her. He wants so bad to stay, but knows that he must go. Brushing the hair from her face, he leans in to kiss her devotedly.

"In my heart there is no beauty greater than you." He whispers to her sleeping lips. "I wish I could see what you see..."

Climbing down off her bed, he retrieves his clothes from the floor. His eyes never leaving that of her perfectly serene face as he dresses himself in the dark of her room. Fastening his pants, he heads for the door. As he unlatches the lock, he can't help but turn back for one final glimpse.

"I do not deserve your love."

And like that, he is gone into the cold, black of night.

* * *

 ** _A/N: Ok, here it is! Rocconilien said to go for it, and I did! Hope you all enJOYed!  
A few bits and bobs before I go: "Sov godt" means "sleep well" in Norwegian. Also, the title of this chapter is for the Chevelle song "Closure". Give it a listen! I've had it stuck in my head for weeks now. It was my total inspiration for this chapter._**


	18. What Must Be Done

**WHAT MUST BE DONE**

Under a veil of darkness, Loki traverses the halls of the palace, hidden within the guise of the Crimson Hawks guardsman, Arko. He has no use for the skin of Theoric at the moment as Theoric is just the man he is bound to see. The man he is bound to condemn.

It seems only fitting for such an act of treachery to be reserved for night time. Such devil's deeds, such sins, are _meant_ to be committed in the dark. At the witching hour, concealed by cloak of shadow. When black magic's at its fullest. And blacker bargains are to be paid full.

Beneath a blood-red moon, he roams. Like ink, a stain upon a starless sky. His long legs carry him swiftly cross the courtyard. Not a sound, not a soul, not even those of nightly creatures calling as his heavy boots do deftly tread along the dead of night.

With that of ease, Loki makes his way down to the dungeons. He knows his way well. Funny, he thinks, but this cold, deserted place fills him with such a strange sense of nostalgia. Of home.

Of course many of the occupants are gone now. Freed by the Kursed of Dark Elves. And yet, everything is just as it were since last he took residence here. His place of incarceration before his liberation at the oafish hands of Thor. He who had literally brought him here in the first place. Never once did his so-called brother come to visit. Not until he NEEDED something. His saving grace. His HERO. Did Thor actually think for a second that Loki would be GRATEFUL for his salvation? Or that he'd be so gracious as to RETURN to his cage once all was said and done?

The Trickster God wonders as he descends the stone steps, his hand idly running along the knotwork carvings in the cool marble, if any of them actually believed his time here would have granted him some sort of repentance. That his punishment would humble him in some way. Make him feel SORRY for his actions on Midgard. Or maybe they just wanted to be rid of him. Hoped that he would die here. Eventually. And forgotten. The prodigal son swept under the rug.

In either case, it feels good to be a free man. As he passes his old cell with his head held high, he knows it will feel even better when he's free of yet one more burden, still.

Theoric.

"Well it's about bloody time!" The Crimson Hawk in question shouts from the end of the cellblock. "I've been down 'ere all goddamned day!"

Loki says not a word as he approaches, though his stomach turns and groans in reproach. Just the sight of the man is enough to turn his gut sour.

"Y'know when I got down 'ere? I told the guards tha' Odin sent me. An y'know wha? They said they got nah such orders! The cells were nah to be cleaned today!" Theoric whines in that sickeningly thick accent of his. "An then they LEFT! Jus' left me down 'ere all BLOODY DAY all by meself an-"

"Yes, yes. So DREADFULLY sorry about that." Loki cuts into Theoric's incessant squabbling. "There must have been some sort of miscommunication with the cleaning staff. I'll be sure to relay your frustrations with the proper channels."

Clearly disgruntled, the real Theoric sticks a finger in the fake Arko's face.

"Y'know, I think the ole man's off 'is rocker, I do."

"And the OLD MAN is still your king." Loki sneers. "A little respect, if you will."

Theoric rubs the heel of his palm into his eyes. He's exhausted from working down in the dungeons all day without any relief.

"Yer right." He apologizes. "Is jus' no one came to fill mah post. I 'aven't slept or ate... AND THIS ONE 'ERE KEEPS BLOODY LAUGHIN' AT ME!"

Theoric storms up to the forcefield of the cell at his left, getting his face right up to the divider. The inmate inside cackles. A grating sound like nails on chalkboard. Loki can only assume the creature inside knows something in which Theoric does not. He can sense the dead man's doom. And it's hilarious. Loki would laugh, too, if it wouldn't give him away.

"YEAH, KEEP LAUGHIN' AN I'LL KNOCK YER BLOODY BLOCK OFF, YEAH?"

The Shapechanger cracks a smile. How he can't wait rid himself of this waste of flesh.

"Yes, well, I came down here to tell you," Loki grabs Theoric's attention, "Odin has a new mission for you."

Backing away from the cell, Theoric throws his hands in the air.

"Well tha's jus' perfect!" Theoric shouts. "Wha' issit this time, then? LATRINE duty? Or _I_ know! Ow 'bout I go clean the stables, yeah?"

Loki wishes he could just kill him now and be done with it. Slit his throat and blame it on one of the inmates, mayhap. Or use his magic and POLITELY put the notion in his head to go back to his chambers and NICELY swallow his own blade. But Loki supposes if he goes and does that, then he wouldn't get the satisfaction of having done the deed himself. The enjoyment of feeling his blood, so slick and curdled, dribble down his elbows. Of watching the light leave his eyes as they hemorrhage and bleed and ooze out their sockets. And doing so in a manner that won't get himself caught.

The God of Lies has no qualms with getting his hands dirty. Such acts of carnage are best suited for those of sharp mind and strong stomach, and an even stronger will, such as he. The ability to do what must be done in order to proceed forward. To achieve glory. To attain what you so desire in this world or any other. In fact, he considers himself quite the master at his craft. And yet, a death upon the palace grounds will only lead to trouble.

For starters, there's the mess in which to clean. And who can forget about the body to dispose of. Not to mention the likelihood of witnesses. Which if he commits the crime here, there most certainly _will_ be. Such a possibility will only lead to MORE bodies and MORE trouble. An investigation. A trial. Interrogations... And one Hel of a headache he is more than happy to avoid.

Best to stick to Amora's plan. Until then, he need only put up with Theoric's obnoxious mouth just a little while longer.

And what is with that, anyway? The man sounds as if he's gargling marbles. Loki may have stolen the Commander's voice, but there was no way in Hel he was going to degrade himself to that disgusting dialect of his. It's the most unpleasant sound to listen to, really. So revoltingly common.

Loki finds himself staring at Theoric's mouth. Sneering as the man goes off on some tirade about Odin and how he's belittling his role as Commander or some such. Loki's not really listening, anyhow. In fact, he feels as if his brain would melt out his ears if he were to. Like he's growing dumber by the second just standing in his presence.

"Yes, well, I'm sure tis nothing personal..."

Oh, but it IS personal. It became personal the very second Theoric dared reach for the unreachable. That which was not his to take.

Of course it _always_ had to be like this. In order for Loki to assume his identity completely, Theoric _always_ had to die. But just HOW depended solely on the whims of a madman. Had Loki had no quarrels with the man, then surely he would have granted him a quick and clean death. But having dared touch HIS property? To try defile HIS woman? Well... Loki cannot let that stand. Not that he's a jealous sort of fellow. Ok... Maybe just a little bit. Vindictive? You bet. Cruel? Either way, to put it mildly, he's thoroughly going to enjoy this.

"In the meantime, the All-father has sent me to convey his message." Loki lies. "At six hundred hours, you and a small group of men of your choosing are to report to the throne room for briefing. Tis a matter of the utmost importance."

Theoric hangs his head back and sighs his relief.

"FINE'LLY. A REAL mission."

Yes, real. Real deadly.

Loki says not a word more, just purses his lips to keep him from smiling. He bites his tongue to keep from spoiling the surprise.

He hasn't been this giddy since Thor was stripped of his title and exiled to Midgard. When he visited him in that holding pen and lied right to his face. How absolutely thrilling it is to hold the fate of another so steadily in your hands. To know that by this time tomorrow, the real Theoric will be no more. And Sigyn will be his. His and his alone.

"Very well, Commander." Loki acknowledges with a proper salute. "Be seeing you shortly, then."

He turns to leave, but judging by the stupefied, or just plain stupid, look on Theoric's face, Loki stops and turns back to face him.

"Oh... You've thought I'd come to relieve you of guard duty..."

Loki simply can't help himself. Through Arko's voice he chuckles.

"Oh, no. I'm simply the messenger." He relays before turning to leave for good, this time. Calling over his shoulder, he adds, "I'm afraid you'll have to wait til morning for the guards to switch out posts."

Back through the corridor of cells he strolls, heading ever onward towards the stairs. A grin on his liar's lips is spreading. Wider as Theoric shouts after him in an act of futility. Like a lamb bleating just before the slaughter.

"ARKO! ARKO GET BACK 'ERE, GODSDAMMIT!" He cries at the top of his lungs. " _AUCH_... WELL, A'LEAST BRING ME SOMETHIN' TA EAT! ARKO! ... OI! WHA' THE HEL YOU LAUGHIN' AT..."

Soon... So very soon now. And Loki will have his satisfaction.


	19. You Complete Me

**YOU COMPLETE ME**

By the time Loki has finished with his preparations and returns to Sigyn's bedroom, it's already nearly morning. The sun has yet to rise, but the new day calls from just around the bend.

Quite as a whisper, he sneaks inside her chamber. Careful not to wake her as he closes the door behind him with a soft click. Once inside, he simply stands there. Just a step inside the entryway, not one more. Watching as she rests so dearly.

She's so beautiful, it hurts. Her ivory skin is like a dream, a contrast to the dark furs in which she's loosely wrapped. Her hair, a sea of starlight, spreading out across the cosmos of her bed. Of all the planets he has roamed, both charted and unheard of, never has he ever found anything or anyone as breathtaking as she. His heart tightens in his chest at just the sight of her. And the thought that by this time tomorrow she'll be as good as his, well... It's enough to bring a smile to his lips. To know that it's all worth it. That once the dead weight has been taken care of, they can finally move forward with the life they'll make together.

Turning over in bed, Sigyn stirs herself from slumber. One slender leg peeks out from beneath the covers, riding all the way up to the curve of her hip. Her eyes flutter open, still so heavy with sleep. After they've adjusted to the dim lighting, she finds him and smiles. Her Theoric smiles justly in return.

"Where did you run off to, my love?" She asks groggily.

Haughty with pride, Loki swaggers towards the bed in which she lays. The bed in which he'd taken her most passionately just hours before.

"To the kitchen for a snack in which to refuel my strength." He practically purrs. "I believe you have drained me, woman."

Stretching out her muscles, Sigyn rolls onto her back, exposing her breasts to him as he takes a seat at the edge of the bed.

"And you did not think to bring your lover sustainance as she wastes away in bed?" She jests. "You will make for a lousy husband."

Loki hangs his head, grinning wildly. He can't help the laugh on his lips. Or the song in his heart when he's near her.

The Liesmith rests his cheek to his shoulder, tilting his head most sweetly at her as he reaches inside his jacket to retrieve a block of chocolate. The same kind he'd caught her sneaking in the pantry.

To this, she squeals in childish delight, snatching up the treat from him and excitedly bringing it to her lips.

Loki smiles down at her, relishing in her enjoyment of such a simple thing as candy. Her tongue curls around her thumb as she sucks the very last bits of chocolate from her fingers. And when she's had her fill, she stares up at him. This time with a new hunger. Getting up on her knees, she reaches for his kiss.

The furs slide down her back, baring her body to him completely. Loki wraps his arms around her. One hand at the base of her skull and the other at the small of her back. Pressing her to his clothed self as he licks the bitter sweet from her lips.

"You have a most voracious appetite, my dearest." He grins into her kiss.

She grins back at him in return, her big, doe eyes shining playfully.

"Will you not satisfy my hunger?" She mewls.

He really doesn't have time for this. He's to meet Amora at the rendezvous after giving Theoric and his men their orders from Odin. Not to mention, the sun is rising, and with it comes visibility. As in, he still hasn't figured out how to maintain his illusion when his brain turns off and he's left thinking with his dick.

She's GOING to notice. He can't hide himself from her forever. But he's not thinking reasonably. Not that he's ever been much for reason. Especially when it comes to things that he wants. And right now he just wants to...

With a growl in his throat, Loki lunges at her breasts. Again, Sigyn squeals. A big grin stretching wide across her face as he suckles at her titt.

"I can spare only FIVE minutes before I must report for duty." Loki groans into her chest.

He can practically FEEL her pouting. Whining playful as a puppy whilst nuzzling her chin into the top of his head, mussing up his hair.

Loki rolls his eyes, sighing heavily in feigned defeat.

"Fine. Fine... TEN minutes. But not a minute more! Understand?" He pretends to relent. "My Lord will not be pleased if he is to be left waiting!"

"Nor will _I_ be pleased should you have me wait one minute more!" Sigyn teases in return.

Resting his chin atop the summit of her chest, Loki stares up at her adoringly. Sigyn looks down at him amused, but overall confused what it is he's waiting for.

"What are you doing?" She giggles.

"Waiting one whole minute to see what would happen." He goads, trying to hide a wry smile.

Sigyn bursts with laughter and Loki follows suit. Wrapping his arms around her, the rollicking pair fall back onto the bed, giggling like they have not a care in the realm. Like this is how it is and always been. How it's meant to be.

He rolls atop her, brushing the hair from her smiling eyes. His frigid heart melting.

Was it really only moments ago that he'd sentenced Theoric to his death? And moments yet that he will carry out the deed? Now here he's laughing. Carrying on like such things are no bother to him. Like those acts belong to someone else. Because he IS someone else when he's with her. Someone better. And everything else is kept so far from reach. Where the monster in him can never find her and taint her with its crimes. If there's ever one thing he can do for her, it would be to not let the blood in his ledger leak unto her innocence.

"Must you really go?" Sigyn asks sadly.

Lying on her back, she reaches up to play with his hair, tucking loose strands behind his ears as he hovers over her.

Loki rests his forehead against hers.

"Aye."

"Where?"

Nose to nose, Sigyn looks up at him with those great big eyes of her. So clear and blue. So trusting. It breaks Loki's heart to have to lie to her. More and more, with every lie, he realizes it's tearing him apart. Still, he plays his part.

"Just a mission. Tis no big deal." He shrugs it off. "More like an act of good faith, actually."

She stares at him, raising her eyebrows as if waiting for him to divulge. Which he does.

"You see there's this farmer on the outskirts of Asgard, and he swears by his goodly name that a pack of rogue Trolls have been stealing his livestock..." He lies most skillfully.

"Trolls?" Sigyn asks, concerned. "Here?"

"I know. I know. My thoughts exactly." Loki spins. "Quite truthfully, I think the old swineherder has been hitting the bottle a _weeeeee_ -bit harder these days, _buuuut_ the All-father would very much appreciate for myself and a small team of men to go check it out. Give it the all clear, just to be sure."

Sigyn lies beneath him. Quiet. He can tell his story has upset her.

"Nothing is going to happen. I promise you, everything will be fine." He assures her, laying a kiss to her forehead. "Should only take but a day's journey. I'll be back before you even realize I'm away."

His words haven't done much to relieve her concern.

"In the meantime, I have a surprise for you!" He perks up, grabbing her attention. "I've planned for you to have quite the lovely day in my absence. You are to be pampered like a queen."

Sigyn makes a face that so clearly expresses her distaste to the word and any sort of pampering.

"Theoric... I-"

" _Shhhhh_." Loki interrupts, placing a slender finger to her lips. "Tis my gift to you. You cannot say nay." He expresses. "And everything's already been scheduled and paid for, so you may as well enjoy yourself."

Her head flops to the side. With a sigh, she rakes her fingers through her hair.

"Fine. Fine. Out with it, then." She relents. "What in the world did you plan?"

Loki grins.

" _Welllllll_..." He begins in excitement. "For starters, I've planned for the palace chef to arrive about 7 to prepare for you breakfast in bed."

He's so absolutely animated right now. Brimming with enthusiasm as he relates to her all that he's designed. An itinerary to make even the finest of Ladies green with envy. To be regarded as royalty for a day. To be treated as a queen. What woman WOULDN'T want for that?

"Whatever you like." Loki continues most sweetly. "He will have eggs straight from the henhouse and cream fresh from this morn's milkmaids. An assortment of cheeses and meats... Oh! And pastries right out the oven!"

"I really don't need-" Sigyn peeps apprehensively.

"THEN..." He continues. "Then, a pair of handmaidens will come to bathe you and wash your hair."

"I'm sure I can wash my own hair."

Sigyn tries to protest but can't help the slight giggle in her tone as Loki presses his lips to the spot just below her earlobe, right where her jaw meets her neck.

"Oh, but not like this!" Loki assures, kissing her again. "They were the late queen's personal handmaidens, so they must be quite exceptional."

With every sentence, he lays another kiss to her neck. And with every kiss, Sigyn is losing this argument.

"They'll infuse the bath with salts and oils..." Loki purrs against her delicate flesh. "Massage your skin with perfumed lotions..." Another kiss, this time lower down her neck. "Comb your hair amidst a running stream of the purest, cleanest waters..."

"Well, that does sound nice." Sigyn moans as he kisses her. "But is that all really necessarily?"

Loki props himself on his elbows to look down at her.

"Of course it isn't necessary. That's hardly the point." He replies. "I want you to relax today. Take it easy and just allow yourself to enjoy the finer things. Let me spoil you, yeah?"

He returns to lavishing her neck with his lips.

"I'm just not so accustomed to such special treatment." Sigyn argues, her toes curling as he tugs at her earlobe with his teeth.

"Which is a damn shame given how truly special you are." Loki returns, rasping in her ear.

He rests his head beside her on the bed so that they're now lying face to face.

"I'm not asking you to become accustomed to such privileges or even saying that should you make a life here with me that this would become an every day occurrence. I just... I just thought you would appreciate the gesture. I wanted to do something special for you-"

"Because of last night?" She slips.

"Because I LOVE you." He corrects. "Tis a gift, NOT payment. Why would you think otherwise? Did you think that just because we've slept together that I would no longer wish to take you as my wife?" He asks seriously.

Sigyn shies her eyes from him. He can feel her shrug into his arms.

Feeling suddenly uncomfortable, she sits up and grabs for the covers, wrapping them about her shoulders. Loki sits up with her. His eyes laced with concern.

The truth is she doesn't know _what_ to think. This is so completely foreign to her. Not only the man in her bed but the tokens of affection, especially those as grand as he's offering her. So decadent and frivolous, tis hardly to her more simple tastes. She feels as if she's been caught up in a whirlwind. Swept off her feet with not a single moment left to catch her breath.

"Tis just... I awoke in the night and you were gone and I... I know not what I thought." She admits a bit sheepishly. "Tis silly. I'm so sorry for even implying. I just... I supposed you had left. I did not think you would return."

Placing a kiss to her lips, he puts her thoughts at ease.

"I will always return to you." Loki replies softly. "You complete me."

He runs his fingers through her hair lovingly.

"What happened between us last night changes nothing. I will have you as my wife, my partner... NOT my mistress." He confirms strongly. "You mean everything to me, and as such, I have a responsibility to you. Not only to treat you to such UNNECESSARY luxuries as this, but I want to PROVIDE for you. To take CARE of you. To treat you as you so deserve to be treated. Which MEANS worrying about you while I'm away and appointing ONLY the BEST to care for you. ESPECIALLY after our encounter last night. You need to rest and give yourself the time necessary to heal. So, YES. When it all boils down to it, I suppose you are more than correct in assuming all of this IS for last night. But NOT for the reasons you are thinking. I LOVE you, Sigyn. Don't EVER question that."

He stares at her with such sure and steady eyes. So powerful and intense, Sigyn can see so clear that what he says is true. Tis enough to render any doubts she may have had as unfounded. He loves her. Which she already knew. But up until this moment, never did she realize just how much and how deeply. How severely. It gives her chills. Filling her with desire. As would it fill her with fright were she to know the WHOLE truth.

"The time to heal?" Sigyn repeats with a hint of amusement returning to her tone. "You act as if I'm made of glass. I assure you, I do not break so easily."

"Made of glass or made of stone, you are precious to me." Loki tells her true. "I care for you. And that includes your wellness..."

His lips return to her neck.

"... your happiness..."

Picking up where they'd previously left off.

"... your every whim and whimsy..."

Kissing her most feverishly.

"...as if they were mine own."

His hand slips beneath the covers, feeling up her thigh. Cold fingers sinking into the warmth between, so wet with excitement.

"Now, then... Does that put your worried head to rest?" He whispers in her ear. "My Sunshine?"

Her head rolls back, managing a nod as he begins rubbing at her slick inner workings.

"Very well. About that hunger, then..." He purrs. "Care for an apple?"

Sigyn giggles at his absurd question.

"An apple?" She smiles, her head still fuzzy as he continues to please her. "Did you procure THAT from the pantry, as well?"

"Nay." Loki grins with mischief. "Why, there's one right there."

Sigyn opens her eyes to see what he could possibly be talking about. She looks all about her, but there's no apple to be found.

"You're playing!" She laughs. "There's no apple!"

"I play you not!" He defends. "Tis as clear as day. You're sitting right on it!"

She glares at him skeptically, but the curiosity in her just needs to know. She needs to see for herself. Removing his fingers from her warmth, Loki allows her to do just that. That wicked grin on his lips spreading as she lifts her bottom off the bed to look beneath her. He can hardly contain himself.

"Can't you see it, woman? Why, there's TWO of them!" He tries not to laugh. "So plump and juicy and round. I think I shall take a bite."

Loki takes her by surprise, tackling her to her stomach. Sigyn shrieks as he sinks his teeth into her ass.

"How absolutely scrumptious." He smiles as she flails beneath him. "Better than Idunn's!"

Sigyn laughs and swats at him blindly, pressed beneath him as he continues to nibble at her cheeks.

Though her cries of play quickly turn to that of passion as he removes his growing need from that of the confines of his pants. Strattling her legs, he lifts her hips to give him a better angle as he enters her from behind.

Keeping her turned away from him is the only thing Loki can think of at such short notice for her not to see his face. That and mayhap a blindfold, but he supposes tis still early in their lovelife for the more adventurous play. But as long as she doesn't try to turn around or change position, his plan should work perfectly.

Laying atop her, the Shapechanger doesn't bother trying to maintain his illusion, he releases it immediately to maintain strength. He'll need it for later.

Sigyn bites at the pillows, moaning as he thrusts into her. This position feels so different from last night. The angle lending itself to a deeper sensation, hitting all new spots. But still he treats her so gingerly. As if he might break her.

"Harder." She orders.

And he's more than happy to oblige.

With his brow rested between her shoulder blades, Loki grunts against her spine with each and every thrust. Sliding in and out of her harder and faster and harder yet. Commanded by all the delightful little gasps and sounds she makes. Her will is his own. He lives to satisfy her hunger.

"My Queen..." Loki groans into her flesh, not even trying to disguise his voice.

He kisses at her neck, his silver tongue gliding up the length of her ear. She's so close now, one little lick is all that's necessary to push her over the edge.

Tis the most glorious of sensations, to FEEL her come. Her body writhing beneath him. Her song in his ear. It is like an explosion. Her muscles constricting and contracting around his length in such stimulating pleasure. Tis torture how good she feels.

Head thrown back, Sigyn reaches behind to grab a fistful of his hair. Loki searches for her free hand, interlocking his fingers with hers as he joins her in rapture. His cries melding with hers as their song fills the room.

And then, silence.

Satiated, Sigyn lets out a pleasant sigh. Loki smiles lazily against her back. With a blissful groan, he drags the tip of his nose along her spine, kissing her softly at the base of her neck.

His head is so dumb with euphoria, the last thing he wants to do is change back into Theoric. Just one more minute, his body begs of him. Like some child not wanting to get up out of bed, just one minute more. And with a whining groan, he resumes the illusion and rolls off her.

"Satisfied?" Face to face, he purrs to her in Theoric's voice.

"And then some." She purrs back.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Legs a tangle, he holds her close. His hand running up and down the length of her hip comfortingly.

"Will you ever stop worrying about me?" Sigyn smiles into his clothed chest.

Loki dressed as Theoric kisses the top of her head and smiles back.

"Never."

There's absolutely no hiding the broad grin from spreading cross her face as she begins playing with the emblem to his uniform. Her fingers tracing along the stark white hawk that adorns the crimson red. Worn so noble and proud. The Maiden has never been one to be babied, to be waited upon or fretted after, and yet the way he dotes on her, she can't help the way she likes it so.

"Tell me again," Sigyn begins coyly, "the day you have planned for me?"

"Yeah?"

He looks to her face to catch her trying to hide her intrigue. She keeps her eyes lowered from him shyly as she doesn't want him to see just how excited she may now be at receiving his gifts. Tis more than enough to puff his chest with pride.

"Well, the chef will be in about 7." Loki repeats from earlier, now more excited than ever. "The maids will be in shortly after to tidy the room and change out our DIRTY sheets..."

Sigyn giggles as he playfully growls the word 'dirty' in her ear.

"Then, the handmaidens." He continues on. "Followed by a light lunch and tea. AND THEN..."

Placing his hand beneath her chin, Loki tilts her head so she can hide her face from him no longer. Tis no question, he absolutely needs to see her reaction.

"And then I've arranged for the dressmaker to pay a visit." He reveals with a satisfied smile. "He's to design for you an entire new wardrobe of whatever styles and fabrics you like."

"Tis too much!" Sigyn says in amazement. "You've gone to FAR too much trouble for me. I couldn't possibly think to accept such a gift!"

"You can and you will." Loki returns. "Tis no trouble at all. I assure you it isn't too much. If anything, it's not nearly enough. You deserve the world and you WILL have it. Consider this merely a taste."

Snuggling her in close, the God of Mischief places his lips to her ear, grinning like a spritely imp as he dares whisper.

"But if I might make a suggestion?" Loki purrs amorously. "Have him tailor for you something in WHITE."

She can't help the laugh in her voice as he nuzzles at her head like some deranged cat hopped up on nip.

"That is if you say 'YES', of course." He continues. "You WILL say 'yes'... Right?"

There's a playfulness to his eyes, but also a pleading. Sigyn places her lips to his, smiling into his kiss as she gently strokes his hair.

"Promise you'll come home to me?"

Tis hardly the confirmation he's looking for, but he'll take it. It's a tease, but for now it's as good as a 'yea'. And he's absolutely brimming with glee.

"Always." Loki replies.

Then, drawing the covers up and over their heads, beneath the sheets he goes and takes her again.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Another long chapter with lots of fluff and a little smut to hopefully make up for the lack of Sigyn in the last chapter and in the following to come. Sorry!**_

 _ **As for the chapter title, this time I have Stabbing Westward's song 'You Complete Me' stuck in my head! If you get a chance, give it a listen or check out the lyrics. I'm gonna go ahead and say this is my song for Loki & Sigyn. **_

**_'Til next time! xoxo_**


	20. No Going Back

**NO GOING BACK**

"You're late."

Inspecting her nails idly, Lorelei awaits Loki's arrival. As she's waited most impatiently for the past hour and a half.

"Where's Amora?" Loki growls snappishly.

He's no time for games as he marches right towards her. His dreadful armor worn proudly. His horned helmet gleaming fiercely. Though Lorelei pays little mind to such posturing. His bravado doesn't count for much to her. She simply rolls her eyes.

"Like I said, you're late." She repeats herself in an irritable tone. "She's already gone on without you."

"What do you MEAN she's gone on without me?" Loki asks, both shocked and annoyed she hadn't waited.

Lorelei sighs.

"We'd better catch up." The witch replies with a non answer. "Sister has already gone and invited our _guests_. Wouldn't want to miss your own party, would we?"

She could only mean one thing. Using her magic, Amora had assumed the role of Odin in Loki's stead and has already given Theoric and his men their orders. No doubt they've already suited up and headed to the stables for their horses. More than likely, they've already departed and are well on their way.

Loki doesn't like this. Not one bit.

He already feels as if he's being played somehow and in some way. Just another cog in their grand machine. To what end, he is not sure. But the fact that Amora would be so bold as to assume the throne in his absence... What ARE these weird sisters up to? And why does it feel as if it is HE who is marching towards his grave?

The Temptress casually pushes herself off the wall she'd been leaning against just as Loki strides right past her. He in a damn hurry while she taking her dear time.

"Slow down!" Lorelei calls after him. "What's your rush?"

With a spirited spring in her step, the sorceress picks up the pace, catching up with Loki. He in turn quickens his gait, trying to keep clear of the tramp he so loathes, but it's no easy task. Step for step, she keeps right along with him.

"Something's _different_ about you..." She remarks playfully. "You look... _livelier_."

She gets her face right up to his as they walk together side by side. Then, with scrunched nose, she shoots back in disgust.

"Odin's stones! You REEK of sex!" Lorelei practically shouts.

"And all without that _delightful_ aftertaste of SHAME you used to leave me with, I might add." Loki digs a bit proudly.

Lorelei simply grins off his remark.

"I was right, you know. You ARE a dog." She slithers slyly. "The young girl from the party, might I ask? The RUSTIC one?"

Like water off a ducks back, Loki won't let her words affect him. Not today.

"Jealous?" He simply asks with a devil-may-care smile.

Lorelei laughs.

"Hardly!" She scoffs. "You give yourself FAR too much credit, dear Loki. Face it, but you don't make for much of a memorable lay."

Loki grits his teeth. The smile has dissolved from his lips.

"And besides, why settle for one lonely king when you can have all the king's _army_ , instead?" She adds proudly. "To say the least, I've moved on and _then_ some. And I couldn't be happier with my new toys. I just worry for your fair maiden, I do. She seems like such a SWEET child. Does she _know_ of the monster she's taken to her bed?"

Head down and horns forward, Loki pulls ahead of her, leading the charge. But like a leach, she stays stuck to his side. Forever a pester. Feeding off his deflated ego and wounded pride as she continues to belittle him with her words.

"You know, I was wondering," the witch goes on to ask, "whose NAME does she cry out whilst you FUCK her?"

Loki stops short. And she along with him. Turning his head, he glares at her angrily. His eyes two dark slits, filled with such malice. Like he may very well ram her with those monstrous horns. Gore her straight through should she not shut her mouth.

Lorelei simply shrugs him off, offering a smug little smile as she begins to walk ahead.

"What?" She says most pleased with herself. "Just curious."

The Sorceress ducks in through an open doorway

"You mustn't be so sensitive. Really. Some might take _advantage_ of such weakness."

Loki follows suit. Begrudgingly.

Tis a small room with no windows or doors. Of stone walls. Dark, barren, and forgotten. Completely empty save one large mirror. Large enough for a man of decent size to view himself full. Though it's not Loki's reflection that he sees when he stands before the glass. Nor of the room or Lorelei, either. But of somewhere else. Well far off. A place of creatures, high in the mountains of Asgard.

In fact, the mirror is no mirror at all, but a portal. A thing of dark energy bewitched to let the caster pass between two worlds. Tis as simple as stepping through a doorway. But not without its cost. For magic never comes without a price. As nothing ever does.

"I've kept it open as long as I can muster, but the connection will be lost the moment you pass through the gate." Lorelei instructs. "Sadly, you'll have to find your own way home."

To this, Loki nods and steps foot through the gate, but not without first looking back.

With an all too fake grin, he says, "If I never see you again, it will only be too soon."

"Not soon enough, I'm afraid." Lorelei replies in kind, handing him a large, heavy sack. "Happy hunting."

And in through the portal he goes, exiting on the other side into the unknown.

His feet land firmly on rocky soil. It crackles beneath his boots as he turns to find his portal is no more. It is just as Lorelei had said. He's been left stranded. Alone in the territory of the Rock Trolls. Fearsome creatures, they're hulking beasts of orange skin and thick, burly fur. Not the prettiest of creatures to look at and certainly not the smartest, to boot. But where they lack in cunning, they more than make up for in brute strength. Stronger than any God or even Frost Giant. And uglier, for sure.

Loki tugs at his collar, protecting his neck as the high winds do howl about him. The tails of his jacket flap wildly in the treacherous breeze as he presses forward towards the Troll's encampment at the mouth of the mountain peak, dragging the heavy bag behind him.

Luckily his travel through the looking glass hasn't left him _too_ drained. Certainly no more exhausting than his trip to Midgard through means of the Tesseract. Twas the sister's _gift_ to him. Providing him a means of transport, the dark energy necessary to make the journey here. To a place not many have traveled. Certainly none of the more sane variety. Not unless one wishes to end up a slave to said savages. Or worse. Dinner.

Though they share the same realm, the two species couldn't be more different. The Aesir tend to leave the Orange-Skinned Rock Trolls alone. As do the Trolls keep to themselves, having as little to do with the Gods as trolly possible. There's been a peace between the pair. An understanding. Each race keeping to their own. Until now.

From somewhere high up the cliff, a siren calls. The sound of someone bugling through a rams horn cuts right through the mountain, alerting all the inhabitants inside.

Like a swarm of riled hornets, out they spill in the dozens. A sea of ruddy orange, emerging from every orifice of their hive. Clad in crude armor and barbaric weaponry, they cling to the craggily surface of their mountain, awaiting their king's word to lay judgement on he who hath intruded upon their desolate domain.

Standing a mere one to hundreds, Loki holds his ground, digging his heels into the harsh terrain. Awaiting what? He's not sure to come.

The noise is deafening. The sound of shields clanking against rock. Of swords banging against stone. Of snarling and gnarling. Growling and shouting. Tis like an angry buzzing in his ears. A mad crescendo. Becoming louder and louder. Until finally... Silence.

The Troll King emerges. Biggest and ugliest of them all. As tall as a Giant, he wears a crown of gold and bone.

"WHO is FOOLISH ENOUGH to attack the MIGHTY GEIRRODUR, ruler of the Empire of Trolls?!" He bellows in his heavy tongue.

Two great big eyes glare down at him, the puny God beneath the fearsome creature.

"Loki." The King snarls.

"Ah, I see you've heard of me?" The Liesmith boasts most puckishly.

"Aye. You're reputation PRECEDES you, Mischief God." He bellows strong. "There is none in any realm who hath not heard thou name in darkest whisper. Even we Trolls up here in the mountains have heard of your MISDEEDS and LIES. Though last I'd heard, YOU'RE DEAD."

His voice is like a deep, low growl. Like the wind ripping through the mountain. The living embodiment of the home in which these foul things dwell.

"And yet here I am." Loki answers, arms outstretched to emphasize. "As I live and breathe."

"So it would SEEM. But NOT for long."

Again the buzzing. The Trolls excited for blood. Some rush forward, climbing over one another. Pushing and shoving their way to the front. The throng eager for the kill. Spittle foaming from their disgusting maws as they close in for a bite.

"WAIT! WAIT! WAIT!" Loki cries, arms forward as if to stop them.

The King raises a hand and all cease immediately. And once again, there's silence. All eyes upon their leader, awaiting his command.

Loki exhales.

"I've come bearing gifts!" The Trickster exclaims.

"Lies!"

"A trick!"

"He means to deceive you, Great One."

"The Puny God lies!"

"EAT HIM!"

"TEAR HIS FLESH!"

"Let's see what color this one bleeds!"

The Trolls all shout. Calling for Loki's most violent end.

"I assure you tis NO TRICK!" The God cries above the gruesome mob. "NO LIES!"

His hand reaches for the large burlap sack at his side. Slow and careful not to startle the natives as he drags it round to his front. With a hand to his chin, the King watches intently. Holding off his forces as he awaits Loki's curious prize.

"JUST GOLD! SHINY, SHINY GOLD!"

He kicks open the sack and its contents spill out, a glittering waterfall bursting with coin and treasure untold. Tis a sight to behold. ESPECIALLY for a Troll. One whose greatest weakness is most certainly his greed.

"Trolls LIKE gold." Loki plays, keeping his hands raised in surrender. "Am I correct?"

One such Troll comes forward. Taking a golden coin between his teeth, he tests the merit of the Liesmith's gift. Finding it satisfactory, he nods to his King.

"Why have you come?" Geirrodur bellows.

"I bring here with me no ill will, nor do I come to you seeking glory. Alas I have journeyed far for the most simplest of reasons, and that is to bear warning." Loki begins seriously, doing what he so does best. "For centuries now, the Aesir have lived in harmony with the Trolls, but there are those among the world of men who seek to do you harm. A small faction, not many in number, but great in arms, have broken with Lord Odin's law and are on their way RIGHT NOW to see to your demise, my King."

At Loki's words, the ruler of Trolls begins to laugh. In turn, all his subjects laugh along with him. The very mountain rumbles in mirth.

"I am NOT lying! They seek to destroy you!" Loki pleads. "They say that Trolls are less than men and should not be allowed to reside within the same plane. That you are base and lowly creatures. Too STUPID to ever see such a betrayal as truth. They LAUGH at Odin's treaties, claiming there could NO PEACE between US and those as REVOLTING as you."

The Troll King listens. Loki may not have earned his favor. Yet. But he has certainly earned his ear. And that is all the Wordsmith needs.

"I KNOW what it's like to be on the receiving end of their scrutiny. To be DIFFERENT. Seen LESS THAN those of the MIGHTY GODS." He goes on to warn. "They'll drive you out, as they did me. Slander your name across the stars. Come with their machines of war. Claim your mines and treasures as their own. Reclaim the Realm Eternal. Cleansed of your repugnant kin and kith."

What others may accomplish with a sword, Loki can do so with nothing more than words. His silver tongue is his weapon. Cutting these simple creatures right down to their core. Exploiting their most base and primal of emotions. And that is _fear_.

"If you don't believe me, just look. Look to your precious mountain. They come NOW." Loki urges. "Now would be the time to strike! When they expect it least and have not armed themselves for the assault. They know not that I've come to inform you of their treason. SHOW THEM your strength! SHOW THEM your resolve! Show them that the Trolls are MORE than the mindless beasts they expect you to be! That you are NOT to be taken lightly!"

He can see it in their eyes. That trepidation. That unease. How his speech does sway them. Even their leader. He who is most enlightened of the Empire of Trolls. Though it doesn't count for much. The smartest Troll is still but a child compared to that of man. So easily manipulated at the hands of Loki.

"Whether you believe me or not, my gift is yours to keep. But a small token of my humble camaraderie. Spread your wealth in whatever manner you so choose. But do ask yourself what use is wealth if by this time tomorrow all of you do cease to exist?"

A stocky, orange Troll emerges from the crowd, making its way to his King. Geirrodur bends low for the little one to whisper in his ear. Loki waits with baited breath. As do the rest of the thrall. After a moment, the massive creature does nod his understanding, sending the little one off to return from whence he came. The Lord returns his attention to the Liar.

"It seems you speak the truth, Crafty One." He begins. "A trio of Odin's Elite have been spied gathering at the foot of the mountain."

"They seek out passage to your home to dare lay slaughter where your women and children slee-"

"QUIET!"

The Troll King bellows. The mountain rumbles. And Loki quiets.

"The word of a LIAR means for little up here where the air is thin and every breath is sacred." The creature says most eloquently. "Dost thou truly BELIEVE I would risk WAR with Asgard for such paltry sums as a single sack of GOLD?"

Though he dare not show it, Loki begins to sweat.

"Still, I ACCEPT your warning." Geirrodur announces. "I will send a squad of my most trusted to meet with theirs at the bottom of the mountain where OUR world meets YOURS." He declares. "Should conflict arise, we WILL be victorious. And should you be WRONG, little God..."

The very mountain erupts in a frenzy. Each and every orange-bellied beast raising their weapons high above their head, shouting to the sky above in a fearsome display of power. It's certainly intimidating, but Loki maintains his composure. That and the slightest hint of a smirk upon his liar's lips.

"And a WISE man is King of the Trolls." Loki exclaims. Lowering his hands, he stands upright and tall. Confident. "You will not regret this. I assure you. You WILL be most victorious this day. _Trust_ me _._ "

And so it begins. The price for Sigyn's love being Theoric's head. And the price for Theoric's head, a sackful of gold. Everything does have its price. As for his deception? The _sum_ of his lies? All the blood on his hands and the cost of innocent lives that is soon to be at stake? Tis a high wager, indeed. But it's too late to turn back now. As the Rock Trolls draw their forces with Loki leading the descent, there's one thing for certain. There's no going back.

* * *

 _ **"And a wise man is King of the Trolls."**_

 _ **A/N: For all you comic book fanatics, you might be quick to pick up on the fact that I've been LOOSELY following a certain storyline thus far. In fact, I've even gone and ripped off a little bit of dialogue from it and used it in this chapter! The story is called "Thy Neighbor's Wife!" and is taken from Thor Annual #14.**_


	21. Love And War

**LOVE AND WAR**

It seems hardly fair, three men to three Trolls. While the numbers may match, the men are certainly outnumbered in means of strength and ferocity. A trio of sitting ducks as the beastly creatures descend upon them.

And yet all IS fair in love and war, Loki supposes. Though this is hardly war. Not even a battle. This is, in fact, nothing short of a massacre.

Amora had done well to bring the condemned here. Playing the part of Odin and again, the old farmer. Leading the triad of Crimson Hawks to the base of the mountain which is soon to be their grave. But where the Enchantress has gone to now, Loki is not sure. She's SUPPOSED to be here.

Tis of no worry, he thinks. Not like he needs her, anyway. There's nothing more to do with their plan than to sit and wait for nature to take its course. And it will. For that he is certain. As nature ALWAYS wins.

Kick a bees nest and see if they do care to discern who had so dared kick them. Nay. They'll sting with abandon, aiming for anything that moves regardless of fault. They don't discriminate, they simply seek to protect their own. And that's what Loki's done. He's shaken up the bees nest. And here come his busy little darlings, now. Armed with such nasty stingers, for sure.

The seeds of fear have been lain inside each of their respective skulls, giving birth to sprout such lovely hatred. Loki can't help but grin as he watches from his vantage. Tis almost too easy.

So eager for a fight, the thick-headed Commander draws his weapon, relieving his sword of the scabbard at his side. He doesn't even _try_ to open communication between he and the Trolls. For all he cares, they're rogue and rabid beasts. Savage creatures _incapable_ of reason or thought. So he speaks to them in a language he is sure they'll understand. The tongue he knows best. And that is VIOLENCE.

Theoric raises his broadsword high above his head. His horse rears back on its hind legs, ready to charge as the Commander shouts,

"ATTACK!"

And so it begins. The invisible war. No one will know of this day. Not the truth, anyway. As Loki clings to the rocks, hidden in shadow, only HE knows for certain just what has truly transpired. How he'd led the Trolls into battle with lies. How Amora had filled the soldiers heads with thoughts of glory and purpose. How none shall leave here alive. And all for ONE purpose. One GLORIOUS purpose.

Love.

The soldier at Theoric's heels falls from his steed as the crazed animal rears back. Terrified, it whinnies an ear-piercing scream just as one of the Trolls pounces, its jagged jaw aimed right for the poor beast's throat. Blood sprays in glorious crimson, raining down upon the fertile earth. It paints the soldier in its red, slick carnage. He, just lying there upon his back. Completely shocked. Unable to move. Watching in horror as the hideous creature tears into what was once his horse.

He doesn't even draw his weapon. He never has the chance. Only a blood-curdling cry does the young soldier raise as the feral thing does turn its sights on _him_. Its craggily chin dripping in the entrails of his mangled steed as its teeth come down around his ears.

Loki laughs at the delightful ' _crunch_ ' the dead man's skull makes as it's crushed beneath the Troll Guard's molars. From the safety of the hill, he has the best seat in the house to this grand design. This performance of blood. Tis almost theatrical. He, watching as the men do come to their untimely and ultimate ends.

As the one Troll feasts upon his war spoils, its meal's comrades fair no better nor worse. The second soldier's screams are cut short as his foe separates his head from his shoulders. Ripping the thing clean off with one mighty motion. Easy, like plucking a grape from the vine. Hunched over his kill, the creature sucks the fluid from the felled man's spine.

Which leaves only Theoric. The leading man of this horror show. The most vital one, yet.

He's holding his own, but just barely. Getting a few good slices into the Troll's leathery hide before being thrown back with a well-aimed spear to the ribs. Yet STILL he fights on.

Though it should come as no surprise to Loki. In fact, he'd expect nothing less. The man IS the Commanding Officer to Odin's most elite guard. But even HE can't continue on like this forever. The Crimson Hawk WILL succumb to his injuries, if not the appetite of the carnivorous creature that is licking at its wetted jaws. Stalking ever closer as Theoric shuffles backward, clutching at his injuries.

His horse has abandoned him. His men, gone. Even his own body betrays him. What was to be a simple mission has turned into a nightmare. Yet as his blood fills his lungs and his vision turns blurry, to Valhalla he swears. If this is to be his death, by Odin, let it be magnificent.

A stain of red upon his lips, he raises his sword to the coming creature and cries, "COWARDLY DOGS! YE'LL NOT FIND _ME_ AN EASY MARK!"

Blood pools in his throat, choking him. Theoric spits it out upon the soil littered with the scattered remains of his brethren. Then, with what courage and strength he has left, the Commander charges at the brutish beast. A cry of war upon each of their lips as both do race to meet the other in one final act of battle.

Loki yawns.

Rising from his viewing spot, he stretches out his muscles. What a crick in his back he has gotten from being bent over for so long. With a satisfying ' _pop_ ', he smiles.

Hands in his pockets, the Trickster God whistles a dandy tune as he descends the hill. Crossing the battlefield as if it were a mere walk in the park. Careful not to step in any of the more unsavory puddles of leftover Aesir debris, now more better known as Troll chow.

And so he makes his way, coming upon the place of Theoric's last stand. Now his final resting place as the soldier lies upon the ground. A spear in his ribs. A rusty sword in his side. And still he breathes haggard breath as his butcher gnaws at his leg.

The Liesmith hovers above the pair, a look of disapproval drawn upon his placid features as he watches the creature eating at the poor man's limbs. He dares tap upon the hulking Troll's shoulder, disturbing the thing from its awful supper.

"Truly sorry to interrupt," The God of Mischief begins, "but I do believe we had a deal. I need this one ALIVE. Which means NO EATING. Go take your teeth elsewhere."

Turning his head towards Loki, the Rock Troll grunts his reply. Tis not exactly words, but more a sound, a guttural apology to the Crafty One. He then drops what mangled flesh he'd been feasting on and rises to his feet, towering frighteningly above the Puny God. But Loki's not afraid. To him, the creature is more overgrown puppy than helhound.

"Again, DREADFULLY sorry." Loki continues as he sends the Troll on its way. "There's still a nice juicy MARE about here somewhere, should you like to try to catch it."

Back straight and arms folded across his chest, he watches as the Rock Troll saunters off before turning his attention back to the man bleeding out beneath him.

"So hard to find good help these days..."

Sighing, Loki crouches at Theoric's side. Taking his right index finger, he then sticks it in the wound in the soldier's chest.

Nothing.

Not a peep or a moan. No shrieks of pain or begging of him to stop. Just nothing. Again, Loki sighs.

Theoric blinks up at him, straining his neck to see. He coughs, gurgling up blood.

"You're..."

"Loki?" He answers. "God of Fires. Teller of Tales. Speaker of Lies. Maker of Mischief. Prince of Nothing. And now my personal favorite, Father of All. So pleased to have finally made your acquaintance. Well... In this form, that is."

The Commander tries to sit up, but can't. He can't move at all.

"You're... _dead_." He finishes.

"Ah... That. " Loki replies. "Yes, well, don't believe everything you read."

Reaching inside his jacket, the Liesmith retrieves one of his daggers.

"As for you, however..."

Like carving a pumpkin, he sticks the blade right into the man's thigh. Again, nothing. So he takes another dagger, this time stabbing the thing into his shoulder. And yet again, nothing.

"Now would you look at that?" He complains, staring at the dagger sticking right out of the man's leg. "Here I am trying to torture you thusly and you can't very well feel a damned thing from the neck down! Tell me how the Hel am I supposed to work with that? You're a vegetable. Can't torture a vegetable."

Grabbing hold of the blade in his leg, Loki pulls it from the wound then re-inserts it, stabbing the man over and over again like a bored little boy picking at his dinner.

"You see this?" He whines. "This gives me absolutely NO satisfaction at all."

He drops his weapon, letting it fall to the ground with a clang. With redded hands, he runs his fingers through his hair, slicking it back with Theoric's blood.

"Tis my fault, I suppose. And people say I don't take responsibility for my actions." He sighs to the wounded soldier. "I really should have stepped in sooner, but I was really having far too much fun watching that behemoth pummel you into oblivion. And now he's gone and severed your spine, and _wellllll_... Now you're just no fun anymore."

"Why are you..."

"Doing this?" Loki finishes his sentence. "Well that's simple. Why do men like us do anything, really? Is it the validation? The approval? The need to test one's worth?"

With a smile on his lips, Loki shines down at the blood-soaked dirt.

"You see, there's this _girl_..." He can't help but sing-song, chatting it up with the disposed Commander as if they're old mates.

Theoric laughs, though it comes out more of a wheezing cough with a gruesome spray of red.

"A GIRL?" He manages. "You murder me for wha? A bleedin' TWAT?"

Crouching low, Loki bounces on his toes. His nose scrunches at the word, the lines at the corners of his eyes becoming more pronounced. Tapping his long fingers against his knees, he knows he should avenge his woman's honor, but the man IS on his death bed, after all. A bed Loki had a hand in making. Mayhap he can let this one slide. This time. Let no one say the God of Lies is not without courtesy towards his kill.

"Now there's no need for _name calling_." He chides. "And besides, murder is such a... _harsh_ word. I'm simply _liberating_ you of your physical body, is all. Your name will live on. Through _me_."

With his elbows on his knees, the Shapechanger looks to the heavens above as if reading the clouds in the sky. He can see it now. The future.

"You see, I've got it all planned out." He confides with a grin. "After your gone, _of course_ , I'll assume your identity and return to the castle. A little worse for wear, but she'll be SO relieved to see me alive and in one piece. She'll BEG of me to marry her right there and then. SWEAR to her to never leave her side again. Then, after a lovely but brief honeymoon, we'll be called back to the castle. Lord "Odin" will have grown ill in our absence. And without any children of his own to pass the duty onto, he'll relinquish the crown to HER, the only daughter he never had. Which in turn will make ME, her HUSBAND, king!"

Theoric's body slumps as Loki pats him on the shoulder.

"See? Happily ever after! Everyone gets what they want!" He grins wildly. "I get the girl and the crown. She gets the perfect husband and life she deserves. And you, my _friend_ , get to make that all happen. All-father Theoric. King of Asgard! Now... Doesn't that sound _grand_?"

His heavy eyes masked with fear, Theoric stares at the madman beside him.

"You're insane..."

"There's that name calling again." Loki whines. "Though I really don't see how that's either here nor there..."

The God Killer rises to his feat, brushing the dirt from his slacks.

"But I guess I should be getting on with it, then. I've talked your ear off enough for ONE lifetime. Surely that's torture enough! Am I right?" Loki laughs.

He removes the rusty old sword from the Commander's side, the Rock Troll's weapon. Then, hovering above where he lay, Loki points the blade at Theoric's head, right between the eyes.

"Now, to make this look like a MONSTER had been here."

His grin turns sickly. His eyes, dark and twisted as he raises the crude weapon high above his head.

"Can't have anyone able to recognize your body, I'm afraid!"

Loki prepares to strike. Bringing the weapon down, he anticipates that wondrous feeling when metal meets bone. But the sensation never comes. Instead, tis the strangest of things. It feels as if he's flying. Being thrown hundreds of feet. Hurdling across the bare landscape til his body connects with a tree.

Staring up at the sky, Loki can't help but think it looks like rain. His body's all twisted. His back on the ground and his feet in the air. He looks like a crumpled old rag-doll and he'd been thrown across the battlefield just as easily as if he were one, too.

Groaning, he rights himself, climbing to his feet. His head feels all knocked around and his body fairs no better. He can feel his bones shifting. Surely he's broken something. But aside from the Hulk, what the Hel could have hit him that hard? A Troll, mayhap? But why? And HOW? He hadn't even heard one approaching. They're not exactly the most stealthy of creatures. In fact, he doesn't even hear them NOW. No grunting or gnawing. No sucking of bones or tearing of meat. Just NOTHING.

Loki looks out upon the field to notice just how empty it is. How eerie. All that's left is but a single lone steed, grazing in the middle of oblivion. Everyone else? Gone. They've all left him behind.

Or so he thinks.

It takes a moment for his mind to register the fact that they're NOT actually gone, but instead still so very much here with him. Only deader. Their terribly strong Troll bodies reduced to nothing more than pulp, spread wide across the battlefield. Their remains scattered and mingled with that of the soldiers.

This is not natural. Whatever did this is not only strong beyond Godly, but quicker than anything Loki has ever seen or faced. And ruthless. Frighteningly so. Even for this God of Evil and Lies.

He NEEDS to get out of here before whatever did this comes back. But first, he needs to find his helmet. It must have been knocked clean off him in the throw and he very well can't leave here with such incriminating evidence left behind.

Clutching his side, Loki hobbles aimlessly, scanning the putrid field for the whereabouts of his helmet. Lucky for him, he doesn't take three steps before he finds it. Unlucky for him, he finds it connecting with his face.

Ears ringing, Loki falls to the ground. Hard. Like a sack of bricks. He looks up to notice a woman of all things standing over him. A woman with... _wings_? And in her hand, his helmet. A nice bloody dent where she'd hit him with it.

"I'm sorry, have we met?" Loki quips.

She doesn't answer, but instead hits him again. This time, he drops to his belly. His face in the mud.

Everything hurts. The muscles in his arms shake as he wills his body to move. Climbing to his hands and knees, he stares up at her.

She's as astonishingly lovely as she is deadly. With wings of grey and armor that shines like the sun. An unworldly beauty. Mythologically so. Like something straight out of a book. A bedtime story told to him so very long ago by a father who is no more.

A Valkyrie.

But that's impossible. Such things do not exist. Yet here she is. Holding his helmet by the horn and hitting him thusly.

"If I've done something to offend you or have wronged you in some way, please accept my most humble of apologies." Loki forces a smile through the pain. "I'm sure there's something I can do to make this right if you'd only be so kind to let me-"

She doesn't even give him the chance to work his silver tongue before hitting him again, forcing him back down to his belly.

Loki stares at the ground, wondering if that's _his_ blood he sees or some mixture of the fallen. His head is pounding. His hearing, muffled. It feels as if a bomb has gone off beside him. He's so totally disoriented. And she's not giving him the time he needs to catch his bearings. This time, kicking him over onto his back.

"I should have known you weren't dead, Laufeyson." The Valkyrie speaks to him in a low growl. "Worry not. Tis an easy enough headache in which to remedy."

Laying her boot to his throat, she retrieves the sword from the harness at her back, between her wings. Pointing it right between the eyes as he did to Theoric not moments earlier.

"There will be no escape from death for you this time, Liar." She says with a scowl. "For your crimes, there is no place in Valhalla for one as loathsome as you. And when I am done with you... Not even Hel will want you."

Eyes wide, he cannot speak. With her foot to his windpipe, he can't even breathe. How the Hel does she weight as much as she does? She's a woman. ONE woman. Yet she feels as if she's dropped a whole building on top of him. And she's going to kill him. He can see it in her eyes. That hate. That anger. And he doesn't even know _why_. But one thing's for certain, he's got to get out of here. NOW. If Loki is anything, anything at all, he is a _survivor_. Lie. Cheat. Steal. Kill. It doesn't matter what the Hel he has to do just to save his own neck. Valkyrie or not, this woman's going down.

From somewhere hidden up his sleeve, a dagger slides into the palm of his hand. And without second thought, he jams it right into her ankle.

The Valkyrie shrieks a terrible noise. Something the like Loki has never heard before. Something earth-shattering. It makes his insides feel as if they're vibrating out of control. Like he's going to explode. He can feel his broken bones rattling around inside him, threatening to puncture a lung. But still he moves. Through sheer will alone, he climbs to his feet and runs.

But he doesn't run far.

Those wings. How could he forget those dreadful wings? She's on him before he even reaches the hill. With his blade in her foot, she takes to the skies. Climbing to an incredible height before dive-bombing right for him. Like the eagle to the snake, she snatches up her prey. Her hands, such awful talons, as they wrap around his throat.

And again, he's flying. For the second time today. Straight back at an excruciating velocity until finally she smacks him down into the dirt, turf flying in chucks as they come to an abrupt halt. The whole while, she never lets him go. Nor will she let him escape her again. The Valkyrie runs her sword right through his shoulder, pinning him to the ground.

He cannot talk to weave a spell. He cannot move to fight or flee. This is the end, Loki thinks as he looks up into her eyes. Eyes of the bluest blue. Like a cold winter's day. So chilling, he can feel it in his bones. Right down to the core of him. They're the eyes of death.

Which is funny. Because in this moment, he can't help but be reminded of Sigyn, somehow. In these final seconds, she's all he can think of. Wondering if she'll miss him, but knowing she won't even know he's gone. That she will mourn for Theoric, never realizing it was _Loki_ who had captured her heart so. That he loved her, TRULY loved her, just as she did him.

As the Valkyrie glares down at him with such hatred, Loki's mind reflects on Sigyn's sweet, loving face and how he'll never see it again. He'll never see _her_ again.

Never again will he hold her in his arms or grace his lips with hers. Taste her candied kisses or feel the warm, softness of her skin against his. To run his fingers through her silken hair or hear her voice, her lilting laugh, once more. To gaze into her eyes. He'd give anything just to see them again. Those piercing eyes. So blue. So tender. Warm and yet so... _cold_.

That gives him an idea.

Her hand's around his neck, literally squeezing the life out of him. She's crushing his windpipe and he doesn't have much time left. His mind is going hazy. It's getting difficult to concentrate, let alone _breathe_. His whole body feels as if it were on fire. His lungs about to burst. It's then that he plays his card, which is just about the only hand he has left. Swearing up and down to whatever divine being that be, whoever that will listen, that should he escape this fate, never again will he utter another lie. That if he lives, he'll become a better person. He'll denounce his wicked ways. He swears it. Just please, let this work.

He can feel it first in his chest. That rush of ice-water filling his veins as he gives in to the monster within him. His eyes burn red and skin turns blue, starting with his face and branching out to his extremities. But most importantly, his _hands_. Then, mustering everything he's got, he reaches out and wraps those icy Jotun fingers around her neck.

The effect is immediate. Her skin sizzles beneath his touch, so cold it burns her flesh to an ashen black. She tries to break free of him, but he keeps his hold on her strong. Her face contorted in agony as his frostbite spreads about her body.

Only when he's sure she's no longer a threat, does Loki release his death-grip on her. He pushes the dying Valkyrie off him and returns to his feet, removing the now ice-covered sword from the wound in his shoulder.

"What is your quarrel with me, woman?" Loki rasps, rubbing his sore neck. Slowly, his skin returns to his usual pallor.

What was once a strong and noble creature is now nothing more than a withered husk. Each breath is labored, a wheezing rattle of death. Eyes of clouded white as she stares up at him.

"I knew... I always knew... you were a monster." She struggles. "Even when you were... little...you would be... the... the death of me."

Her body begins to splinter, bits of her shattering apart as she fights to speak her last words.

"I cannot let you... If it's the last thing... I do... I... forbid you..." Tears of gold stream down her cheeks as her threats turn to that of pleas. " _Please_... Please don't hurt my..."

Reduced to ash, the wind whisks her away before she can complete her final thoughts. Becoming nothing but feathers and dust on the breeze.

Reclaiming his helmet, Loki takes one final glance over the battleground. Having succumbed to his injuries, Theoric lays dead where he'd left him. Everyone else, expired along with him. Only Loki remains. And he should be glad. Despite his little hiccup, the mission was a complete success. He's _alive_. So why does it fill him with such a strong sense of sadness. With a pit in his stomach, the Dark Prince begins the long journey home.


	22. Web Of Lies

**WEB OF LIES**

What should have been accomplished in a single night takes two whole days, but finally and somehow Loki manages to hobble all the way back home. By the time he reaches the shining city, he's completely exhausted. Finding it in him, through sheer will and determination, to change himself back into Theoric before coming upon the palace. The only thing that's keeping him going is his excitement to see Sigyn again. That and the strange trepidation to find what the sisters have been up to in his absence.

"Well there he is." Amora, in the disguise of Odin, bellows. "Took you long enough."

"And here we thought you'd perished."

Though she wears the skin of a guardsman, Loki can smell that stink of Lorelei anywhere.

"As I'm sure you were heartbroken at the thought." He says, thick with sarcasm. "Truly."

Perturbed, he turns his attention back towards the impostor in his seat.

"And just where the Hel were you while I was getting my arse handed to me, eh?"

"Why, here, of course." Amora offers her most profound excuse. "I figured you a man most capable of taking down three little soldier boys and a fistful of Trolls. Surely you didn't need _me_ tagging along, stealing all your glory."

"So you knew nothing of the ambush?"

"Oh? Is _that_ what happened to you, dear? Poor thing, I had no idea. I swear." Amora plays concerned. "So happy to see you made it out with your life. You know, you should really have that shoulder looked at. It truly looks quite painful. I'd hate to think I'd caused you any distress."

"I'm sure." Loki groans.

Eying Amora on the throne, he adds, "Don't get too comfortable, by the way, _dear_."

Father 'Odin' rolls his eyes.

"I know. I know. Once done here, we go our separate ways." Amora sighs.

"Which is fine by me." Lorelei grumbles. "The sooner we get this done with, the better, I say."

"And I second that." Her sister adds. "So shall we?"

Without further ado, Lorelei heads towards the throne room doors and pulls them wide open, revealing the young woman waiting outside most patiently.

Sigyn sees her Theoric immediately. Bruised and battered. His uniform torn and covered in blood. He's a sorry sight, indeed. And while he truly _is_ hurting, Loki is sure to play it up nicely to gain a little extra sympathy from his beloved.

Just one look and she runs right to him. Throwing herself upon his embrace, Sigyn wraps her arms around him tight. A little _too_ tight. Loki winces at the sudden rush of pain shooting down his side.

"My Gods, I'm so sorry!" Sigyn apologizes, her voice shaking with emotion. "You're hurt. I..."

She loosens her hold on him, pulling away, but he brings her back in. Forgoing the pain, Loki wraps himself around her, bringing her head to rest against his chest. She tucks herself beneath his chin and smiles, so happy to be held in his arms. To have him home with her. Safe.

"I grew so worried." She says with tears in her eyes. "I feared I'd never see you again."

He kisses the top of her head, nuzzling his cheek in her hair.

"You were in my thoughts always." Loki speaks from the heart. "When things were at their grimmest, you gave me the strength to carry on. I couldn't have done it without you. Nor would I be alive right now if it weren't for your love."

Loki pulls back slightly to look at her dear face, wiping away her tears with his thumb.

"And besides, I made you a promise, didn't I? To come home to you?" He smirks. "Would be rather rude of me, don't you think, to die and go breaking my promise to one as fair as you."

From his lips to hers, the Shapechanger whispers 'I love you'. His hand beneath her chin as he leads her into a kiss. However improper, it matters not to him that Amora and Lorelei are watching. Or Odin and some nameless guardsman as far as Sigyn's concerned. The whole court and all the townspeople could bear witness for all he cares. It matters not. For Loki had brushed with death. REAL death. And nothing can stop him from professing himself to the one person that DOES matter most.

In a roomful of liars, she is the only honest thing there is. Everyone else wears a mask, but she wears none at all. Her heart so wide open, she gives it to him without any doubt or hesitation. So plain for everyone to see. And he WANTS them to see. To witness their love.

Through her disguise, Lorelei stifles a gag. Amora, on the other hand, does nothing. Simply sits in her borrowed throne. Staring blankly. Emotionless. As cold and still as a stone statue. Which would be so completely unnerving if Loki cared in the slightest. He's just enjoying himself too much. Caught up in the moment to pay any attention to anything other.

He'd returned from the fields triumphant. A _hero_. And it's fun to play the hero for once. If only just _once_ in his miserable life. To stand proud and noble. To get the girl. Receive the accolades he deserves. Even if it's all pretend.

The truth is, it's all a lie. A scheme. And as happy as he is in this moment, the sad reality is that all good things must come to end. Especially for Loki. Nothing good can _ever_ last.

"Though it pains me to break up this happy reunion," Amora as Odin interrupts, "I'm afraid the mission was not without its casualties."

Loki breaks from their kiss, but still holds her in his arms. This was not part of the script, but plays along all the same, not knowing where it will lead.

"My men." He improvises. "Alone, only I survived the Troll's rampage."

He glares at Amora, silently warning the witch not to go back on their deal. He'd kept his end of the bargain. There were none to survive his slaughter. She OWES him not to tell Sigyn his secrets. But little does he know there are worse things worth telling than lies.

"And Sir Theoric could not have survived such an onslaught without the aide of one of Valhalla's Valkyrie."

"A Valkyrie?" Sigyn asks the false Father.

"Aye." He confirms solemnly. "Though I'm afraid she did not make it."

Slowly, Sigyn removes herself from that of Loki's arms. Her attention solely on the All-father. She takes a single step towards him.

"Her name?" She asks meekly.

Loki hasn't a clue what is happening. It's so completely out of his control. It's as if he doesn't even exist. One second he was the center of her universe. Sigyn was so relieved to see him. Everything was as it should be. And now? The air has turned so thick with tension. His nerves are wound so tight. Just what is going on right now? What is Amora playing?

"So strange for Valkyrie to show themselves so openly as she had." Odin continues.

"Her name?" Sigyn repeats herself, this time more sternly.

"Is it not against their law to intervene in the daily toils and conflicts of men?"

"HER NAME."

By now, she's absolutely shaking. And though he tries not to show it, so is Loki. Without even knowing WHY.

This doesn't feel right. A quick panic-filled glance to Lorelei confirms it. She grins right through her construct. Sickly and terrible. She cannot hide the enthusiasm she wears. This doesn't bode well.

Finally Odin speaks.

"Freya."

Though she acts indifferent, Sigyn is obviously shaken. Loki notices her body sway slightly, as if on the verge of collapse. But still she stands strong, refusing to show weakness before that of her king.

Loki's eyes bounce about from Amora to Sigyn to Lorelei and back to Sigyn again. He feels as if he's the only one not in on the joke. Like he's merely a spectator here. The name obviously means something to her. But what? And yet the butterflies in his stomach give him all the answer he needs. That nauseating churning. The turning knife that tells him he already KNOWS the answer to such a question. And Odin confirms it.

"I'm so sorry, child. It pains me terribly to be the one to deliver such dreadful news." Amora speaks through Odin's tongue. "You have both my sympathy and most sincere condolences. You're mother was a goo-"

"Mother?"

Loki doesn't even realize he'd said it. The word comes out a whisper and yet everyone turns to his attention.

This feels like a nightmare. Surely this cannot be real. There's no way he'd killed Sigyn's mother. There must be some mistake. But as his wide eyes do catch hers staring, he realizes something. Something he never knew before now. How could he?

She has her mother's eyes.

A tear runs down her cheek. Sigyn casts her eyes to the floor, quick to hide her emotions. She's falling apart. Her composure, compromised. And still Amora sits there on her throne, practically on the edge of her seat. Watching. So completely cold. Emotionless. Except, Loki notices, for the hint of a smirk on her wretched stolen lips.

This was no accident, he realizes. As Sigyn quickly dries her eyes, tis so plain to see just how greatly Amora takes enjoyment in her pain. The pain that HE had dealt her.

He moves to hold her, to comfort her, but she backs away from him. Hands out to keep him at bay.

"I... I'm so sorry, I..." She stammers, flustered. "Excuse me."

And without another word, she leaves. Not running, but exiting the throne room as quickly as possible. Head down so no one can see her face.

As soon as she's gone, Loki's head snaps back to Amora. So fast, tis a wonder he doesn't break his neck.

"Oh my." Lorelei giggles in her own voice. "I do believe we've hurt her feelings."

His eyes burn with a hate beyond hatred. There are no words to describe the level of malice he feels towards that grinning bitch and her sister.

"You did this." Loki growls. "You planned this from the start, didn't you!"

" _I_ did this?" Amora feigns hurt, returning to her own skin. "I do believe it was YOU who'd cut the old hag down."

"YOU SET ME UP!" Loki shouts, enraged.

"I did, but can you blame me?" She sighs. "I mean, really. You men are so EASILY manipulated, I can hardly be at fault for your shortcomings. Tis akin to blaming the spider for the fly finding itself caught in her web of lies. I simply set the invitation. It was YOU who chose to accept my bargain. You have no one else to blame for your own actions but YOURSELF."

"None of this would have happened had you only been HONEST with the little mouse from the start." Lorelei pipes in with a song.

Sitting pretty atop the throne, Amora crosses her legs coquettishly. Idly smoothing out the wrinkles to her silky green dress.

"On the bright side, a deal IS a deal." She says in a bored tone. "For your acts of blood, we will keep your secrets safe. But ONLY those that we'd agreed. Meaning Odin and Theoric. It seems we have a whole NEW secret, now don't we?"

With the tilt of her lovely head, she smiles venomously.

"Cross me and I'll tell you're dearly beloved just who killed MOMMY."

"You'll say nothing once you're dead." Loki sneers, reaching for his dagger. "I'm going to-"

"PLEASE!" The Enchantress laughs. "The sorry state you're in, you'll be lucky if you could even LIFT one of your puny little pigstickers let alone take down the BOTH of us. Be REASONABLE, dear Loki, if only for your own sake."

Standing up, she stares him down.

"Now be a dear and off you go." Amora shoos. "Go be a shoulder to cry on. Tis the best and ONLY thing you can do for anyone right now. And she really DOES need you. Poor thing did just lose her mother, after all."

Loki's so mad, he's shaking. His fists so white-knuckled tight, he'll have to pry his nails from his palms. But what can he do? She's absolutely right. He can't take them on. Not now. Not as he is.

"I want you out of my palace." He seethes. "Mark my words, bitch, the next time we meet, I will end you. I will bring a scourge down upon you the likes of which none have EVER seen. I will make you WISH for death! You will RUE the day you ever did dare trifle with the likes of Loki. Do you hear me?"

"Promises..." Lorelei grins smugly.

With one last glare that could kill, Loki exits the throne room, throwing his cape over his shoulder in a dramatic flourish. Then, once outside the throne room, he sets off. Racing to find Sigyn. Though, it doesn't take long until he catches up with her.

"Sigyn!"

He calls her name but she will not listen. Though she hears him, she pretends she cannot. Just keeps her head straight and feet walking. As if on a mission. Determined to keep moving forward.

"Sigyn, stop!"

He steps in front of her but she pushes past him.

"Sigyn, please..."

So he puts himself in her way again.

"Theoric... Please do not confuse my actions for someone who does not care." Sigyn barks just as sternly as before, trying to keep her emotions in check. "I am HAPPY you are alive. Verily. I just... Please... I just need to be alone right now."

Again, she pushes him away, but he's quick to hold on. DESPERATE to hold on. Despite the shooting pain in his shoulder, he will not let her go.

"Sigyn, PLEASE, if you would only just LISTEN."

His fingers coil into the fabric of her dress, balling themselves tight.

"Let GO of me!" She orders.

Despite all her tugging, he's held fast to her.

"Listen..."

His voice is filled with despair. His eyes with such fear. He's absolutely hopeless. Clutching at her dress as if clutching at straws. Afraid to let her go lest he drown in a sea of his own sorrow.

"LET ME GO!"

"PLEASE! I NEED TO _TELL_ YOU SOMETHING!"

She begins to thrash, striking at his chest and arms in an attempt to escape him. Screaming at him to let her go. To set her free. But he will not. He _can_ not. Despite how terribly his body screams at him, Loki can't let her go. Not after everything he's done.

The levy breaks. As does Sigyn. In her frenzy, she begins to fall apart. And quickly. The more she hits upon him, the more and more she gives in to the pain tearing her apart.

And Loki takes it. Not only because he deserves it, but to offer her a way to ease that burden. To vent that suffering. He gives himself to her. Whether it be punching bag or a shoulder in which to cry on. Whatever she needs, he's here for her. Because the truth of the matter is, he'd been here before, too. He knows _exactly_ what she's going through. That torment. That agony. That overwhelming sense of grief. He will not let her go through this alone.

"I'm sorry." Loki whimpers. "I'm so sorry."

Something breaks inside her. Overcome, Sigyn finally gives in. Screaming like a wounded animal, in hysterics as the tears begin to fall like rain.

Loki wraps his arms around her tightly. Shielding her. Protecting her. Even though it is HE who'd she'd need protection from.

"I'm so sorry..."

He's the monster who'd did this to her.

"I'm so sorry..."

Who'd brought her all this pain.

"I'm so sorry..."

He apologizes as if it means something. As if all the 'sorrys' in the world could possibly fix what he had broken. But there is no fixing her. Not after what he'd done.

Loki falls to his knees. Sigyn's limp body curled and crumbled in his arms as her heavy cries do turn to a softer sobbing. The two of them just lying on the cold, stone ground in the middle of the palace courtyard.

The grey skies open, showering down upon them gently. It patters against the cobbled pavement and splats against his face. How appropriate, Loki thinks. It feels as if the whole world's crying. As does he cry for his whole world.

"I'm so sorry, Sigyn."


	23. What The Heart Wants

**WHAT THE HEART WANTS**

"That is NOT what we'd agreed. The arrangement states-"

"The ARRANGEMENT states the son of Asgard, MY son-"

"YOUR son? Do not think me so naive, One Eye. In whatever skin you dress him in, a snake is still a snake. That THING that you parade around as your HEIR is nothing more than a-"

"LOKI?" A familiar voice booms from the other side of the wall. The second, more feminine voice quiets. "Is that you snooping about?"

Opening the door from his study, the All-Father finds his youngest waiting just outside in the hallway, kneeling with his ear to the space which had held a thick timber door just a moment before.

"I wasn't snooping." Little Loki begs to differ, rising to his feet to greet his father. "I just happened upon your door and heard voices. I was _curious_ , is all."

Odin smiles down at his little one fondly.

"What am I going to do with you..." He shakes his head with a smile.

A laugh warm's the old man's lips. And his heart. When suddenly he remembers his guest.

"Come in! Come in! There's someone here I'd like you to meet."

With a strong, fatherly hand to the shoulder, Lord Odin invites the boy of ten inside.

"Loki, this is Lady Freya." He introduces.

Stepping inside the room, the child offers his hand to the woman standing by the window, though she doesn't offer hers back. She simply stares at him. Long and hard. And cold. Loki shudders slightly. Such a strange feeling upon first meeting someone. Like she's staring right through him. Right into his soul. Reading him. Judging him. He's not quite sure he likes her much. And he's sure as anything she doesn't much like him.

Dejected, Loki retracts his hand, bringing it back to his side.

He wonders what this woman could be doing here. He'd never seen her before. Not around the castle or about the town or any of the surrounding lands. Not anywhere at all. So who exactly _is_ she? And what business could she possibly have with his father? Tis not like he could hear exactly what they were saying. But it did sound awfully heated. And important.

The child looks to his father for guidance. That and the much needed answers to his ever growing curiosity.

Odin offers a warm smile in return. The kind that makes his one eye twinkle. That instantly puts the small child's mind at ease.

"Tis Sigyn's mother, my son."

Loki instantly perks up at the name. His eyes, wide. His smile, electric.

"Sigyn?!" He asks, completely animated. He's already forgotten about the strange woman or his questions. "Sigyn's here? Now?"

Odin laughs, warm and jolly. Freya simply stands there. Glaring. Her eyes never leaving that of the boy.

"Aye! Aye, child." He bellows. "In fact, she's right down in the garde-"

Loki cannot wait for his father to finish. Excited, he dashes out of the room, racing for the garden. Though a second later, he races right back. Remembering it would be rude of him not to say his farewells.

"A pleasure to meet you." He says breathlessly from the open doorway, giving a courteous bow.

Then in a hurry, he's off again to go find his Sigyn. Nearly tripping over his own feet he's running so fast. Faster than his scrawny little stick-thin legs could carry. Leaving Odin and Freya to return to their earlier discussion. One in which, unbeknownst to Loki, most certainly concerns him. And his future.

"See?" Odin continues. Taking a place by the window beside Freya, the two look out to watch the young Odinson racing through the courtyard. "Arrangement or not, we can do as little to sway hearts as one would to sway seasons. The choice has been made with or without our say. They are children. And as parents, the best we can do now is simply sit back and let things happen as they may. The heart wants what the heart wants, Freya. And there's nothing we can do otherwise."

"Over my dead body..."

And so Loki runs. More excited than he's ever been before. Tis not even summer. Nor will it be for a couple months yet. But Sigyn is here! NOW! What a pleasant surprise!

He can't wait to see her. To show her how much he has grown since last season. Oh, and surely she'll enjoy the new spell he'd learned. And that joke Thor had taught him. That dirty one he'd heard from Fandral that is sure to turn her face red. And...

"Sigyn!"

Racing toward her, Loki calls her name at the top of his lungs, making her jump out of her skin. Sigyn turns around, away from Loki as if trying to avoid direct contact. She twists at her hair anxiously, pulling it over her ears as if trying to hide something. Her head angled towards the ground as he approaches.

"Sigyn! Sigyn! Didn't you hear me calling?" Loki beams, jumping around in front of her no matter which way she turns. "What are you doing here? Are you staying long? I met your mum. She's rather standoffish. Hey... Is everything... alright?"

It's only after his own excitement fades does he realize something's wrong with Sigyn. She's not her usual sweet, bubbly self. And happy. And kind. And wonderful. And... Well, sometimes she can be really quite bossy. But right now she's none of those things. Right now tis almost as if she's embarrassed about something. And sad. Definitely sad. Which makes HIM sad.

Bending his body awkwardly, Loki angles his head to get a better look at her from underneath all of that hair. And though he can't see much, certainly not what all the fuss is about, he can definitely see the tears in her eyes. Big, glassy, and wet. Threatening to fall.

"What's wrong?" He asks, suddenly concerned.

"Don't look at me!" She shouts, quickly concealing herself again.

Sigyn drops to the ground, tucking her head between her knees. She wraps her hands around her head, covering her ears.

"Why?" Loki asks slowly, kneeling down beside her.

"I'm ugly!" Sigyn cries from beneath her hands and hair and knees.

"I don't understand." The little prince replies. "Do you have a nasty pustule or something under there? Is it gross? Can I see?"

He tries to make her laugh, crack a smile, something, but it's no use. She doesn't exit her self-made cocoon.

"Come now. Whatever it is, it can't really be so bad. Certainly no worse than the face Sif is forced to wear on a _daily_ basis." He coaxes. "Let me see and I promise not to laugh."

Sigyn peeks her eyes over her knees slightly. But just a peek.

"Promise?" She peeps.

"Promise." Loki does swear.

Coming in close, he expects the worse as she lifts her head for him to see. But once she gains the nerve to dare show him her face, Loki can't help but notice there's absolutely nothing wrong with it. Nothing at all.

She still wears those same pale-blue eyes he loves so much. So big and wide and beautiful. Those full, rosy cheeks and pretty pink lips. She's exactly as she ought to be. So then why is she so sad?

Arching an eyebrow, Loki stares at her confused. That is until she pulls back her silky, gold hair, revealing her ears.

What once came to the cutest little points atop her delicate ears have now been rounded to make her look more Aesir. More _normal_. And while whoever had done the job was quite skilled at his craft, it still doesn't change the fact that she'd been _mutilated_. And for what?

Sigyn's eyes find the ground. She doesn't have the strength to look at him.

"Mother says my pointed ears make me look too Dwarvish or even Elven."

"But you ARE part Dwarf."

"Aye, but she says some might see that as a weakness and would question my ability to ru-"

"I care not WHAT your mother says!" Loki interrupts. He's so mad, he doesn't realize he's shouting. Not at Sigyn but _for_ her. "You're perfect just the way you are! Don't let ANYONE make you think otherwise. Not your mother. Not ANYONE! Do you understand?"

Sigyn looks up from the ground at him. It seems he's taking this harder than _she_ is. His eyes are wide and glassy. His whole body trembling in a silent rage. She's never seen Loki so upset before. And over someone like _her_. She can only wonder why?

Still, she nods to him. Anxiously tucking her hair behind her ears as her eyes reclaim their spot on the ground.

Loki breathes a shaky sigh, telling himself to calm down. Being mad won't do anything to help her. Or himself. Even though he _is_ mad. So very, _very_ mad. There's no telling what he could do. Should she will it so, he could very well snap.

But then she lays her head on his shoulder. As if sensing his inner turmoil, that fury within him. Such a simple action and his mind is instantly at rest. She brings him peace. Tis as if all his anger just floats away.

He wraps an arm around her, wondering who's comforting who? Looking down at her small head resting so pleasantly against him. So perfectly. He can't for the life of him bring himself to understand why anyone would ever do this to her? How anyone could ever harm her? In any way at all? Sweet, little Sigyn who would never hurt a fly. It makes his heart ache.

His eyes glance to her ears, still quite red and a bit raw. But once fully healed, it will really look quite fine. No one will ever be able to tell. Not at all. Except him.

Loki kisses the top of one of her ears. A little peck, making her whole body tense. Completely frozen stiff, if only for a moment, before slowly melting back into his arms.

"So I'm not ugly?" Sigyn asks timid and quiet to his chest.

"On the contrary, you're revolting." Loki quips.

Perking her head up, the young girl smacks the cheeky prince hard across the chest.

"LIAR!"

She can't help but laugh at his rudeness. Such a laugh that instantly brings a smile to the mischievous one's narrow little face. An infectiously wide grin that Sigyn can't help but share.

"Fine. Fine. You're not revolting." Loki plays with a roll of his eyes. "Though you're hardly a step above unpleasant. Plain, mayhap?"

"I'm going to tell your mother you've been mean to me." Sigyn huffs, playing along. "Have her teach you some manners."

Sigyn motions to get up from her seat, but Loki pulls her back down to him, wrapping the girl back up in his arms.

"Had she lopped off both ears completely, you'd be just as you are always."

He whispers to her. So quiet, had anyone been present, no one else could hear. Not that anyone would believe the little liar could say anything so sweet even if they had. His words are for her and her only. As is his heart.

"You're beautiful."

* * *

 _ **Phew! A nice short and sweet chapter after some of my more ginormous ones. And because I love Little Loki. He's so cute and innocent, still.**_


	24. Carry That Weight

**CARRY THAT WEIGHT**

He'd only met her mother once in all his entire life. That is until he'd murdered her, of course. Because that is what he did, after all. Murder her. Freya. The mother of his beloved. His soon-to-be mother-in-law. The grandmother of his future progeny. Need he go on?

Despite how many times he tells himself that what he'd done was justified. That he'd acted in self defense. She would have killed him had he not gotten lucky and felled her first. It doesn't do anything to ease the guilt he feels. That terrible gnawing at his gut every time he looks at her. And it doesn't help that she's avoiding him.

Confined to her room, Sigyn hasn't moved for days. Just lies upon her bed in and out of sleep. During the seldom few moments she _is_ awake when Loki comes to check on her, she doesn't even speak to him. She can't even bring herself to _look_ at him. With her back to him, it's as if he doesn't exist. For all the flowers that he brings and gifts he showers her with, it all goes unnoticed and untouched. Alarmingly so, the same goes with food. Tis as if she's just given up. Resorted to wasting away. And it's absolutely killing him. To know that there is nothing he can do for her. Nothing besides be there for her should she need him when she wakes.

Until then, he's hardly left her side besides to tend to his injuries, dispose of her wilted flowers and uneaten meals, and to make the rare appearance as Odin. Which is an absolute chore to be dragged away from his beloved, but nevertheless a chore that must be done should he wish to keep the crown. Which, in turn, is something he's not so sure of anymore, either. He's not sure of anything, really. Anything, but _her_.

Sitting in a large, leather chair at her bedside, Loki reads to her. As he's read to her for hours now. Reading until his voice runs hoarse and his lips go dry. He's not even sure what he's reading anymore as one story flows into the next. But anything is better than the alternative. The quiet.

Books upon books litter the ground where he's stationed himself. And with the flip of the page, he adds yet one more to the ever-growing pile. It isn't until he reaches for another that he realizes he's finished the very last of the novels he'd carried over from his own personal library. So with nothing left to read, there's absolutely nothing left for him to do but sit in silence. Alone with his thoughts. Which can be a very scary place, indeed. A place he'd been trying so direly to avoid.

With a sigh, Loki reclines in his seat. He runs his hand through his unwashed hair, his fingers getting caught in the braid Sigyn had woven for him. Such a sweet and caring thing for her to do. As she is nothing if not sweet and caring. Which makes Loki wonder how someone as good and kind as Sigyn could have possibly been born to such a stone-cold bitch as her mother. And a Valkyrie... He still can't wrap his head around that one.

In all the worlds and universes he's traveled. All the creatures and beings he's seen. Never did he ever imagine such a thing as Valkyrie truly existed. It makes him think of his own mortality. Ponder _everything_ he believes.

Loki thinks of his mother. If Valkyrie do exist, then surely Valhalla does, too. And if Valhalla exists, then he wonders if Frigga had found her way to the golden Hall of the Fallen. If she had been made one of the chosen to sit among the honored dead. To feast at their table. To drink from their ever-flowing goblets of wine. To have a happy and good afterlife just as the stories had told him. And await the end of days. The day that maybe, just _maybe_ , they'll be reunited, at last.

Tis a good story, he thinks. The Liesmith would like to think that it's true. But the truth is, should such a place as Valhalla exist, then the opposite exists, as well. A place for those such as _him_. The _un_ -honorable. The unworthy. The murderers and liars and cheats and sinners. Valhalla would never accept the likes of Loki. Only Hel awaits him. And he'll _never_ be united with his mother. That for all the red in his ledger, he will never see her again.

He remembers when he'd first heard the news of her passing. How he'd nearly torn his cell apart. How it did, indeed, tear _him_ apart. Mind, body, and soul. It tormented him. Broken and bleeding on the cold, dungeon floor. Grieving alone as the city above paid their respects as a whole. As is he always alone. Whether in a crowd or in captivity, he'd been all alone most of his entire life. So often so, he'd just about become accustomed to the feeling of it. Until there was _her_.

Sigyn is his rock in which to ground him. His soul in which to save him. And what had he done for her in return? He'd broken her as he is broken. He'd done the one thing he'd promised himself he'd never do. He'd made her cry. She who shines in a world full of ugliness. He'd snuffed out her light.

But never again.

Despite everything he's done to her and anything he might yet do, there's one thing for certain. He won't let her fall apart. Loki can't just sit here and watch as Sigyn slips away into her own wallowing sadness. As low as she may sink, he won't let her sink to his level. Even if he has to hold her up on his shoulders to help her rise above the muck, he will carry that weight. As it's _his_ weight to carry. Not hers.

"Come." Loki dressed as Theoric demands, rising from his seat. "Time to rise, Sunshine. Get ready. We're going out."

Sigyn hisses in protest as he grabs at the covers, tearing them away from her.

"I think we've grieved long enough."

He's grown tired of waiting around for her to need him. She needs him _now_. More than she does know or cares to know.

"That is my MOTHER you speak of!" She half growls.

"Aye. And I'm sorry for you loss. Verily." Loki says calm. "But tis time to move forward, don't you think?"

"How DARE you..."

The girl could glare daggers, but Loki does not back down. In all honesty, he's actually quite happy to see there's still fire in her, even if his expression remains stoic. Despite his own self-pity and grief, Loki must remain strong, if only for her.

"Be angry with me all you like, but you know as well as I, I know EXACTLY what you're going through." He replies. "I've lost a mother too, you know."

Her grey eyes soften just ever so slightly. Grey. Lacking their usual luster and wintry blue. That bright pop of color that he cherishes so dear. That makes her look so downtrodden and pale without. So tired despite all her sleeping.

"Now go wash and get dressed." He orders her. "The day is for the _living_. And by days end I'll be damned if I haven't put a proper meal in you, yet."

He doesn't mean to be harsh, but he'll do what he must to bring that light back to her eyes. Even if it means giving her a swift kick in the ass should she need it.

"I'll be back within the hour." Loki says sternly, heading for the door to give Sigyn her privacy. "I expect you to be ready."

* * *

 _ **A/N: This chapter was totally inspired by the Nine Inch Nails song The Fragile. I think by the time I'm done with this fanfic I'm gonna have my own Loki playlist! Lol**_

 _ **I was also gonna make this chapter longer, but then it got TOO long and it felt all disjointed, bla,bla,bla... so I've broken it up into two chapters. enJOY!**_


	25. Victorious

**VICTORIOUS**

Loki had half-expected to have to drag Sigyn from her quarters, but by the time he returns, she's ready for him. A bit grumpily, but ready, all the same.

And so they set off into the country. Not far from the castle, but somewhere sunny with tall grass and trees to shade them. Someplace secluded, away from the noise of the city. Where she'd feel more secure and inclined to open up. Without the stress of all the people and their prying eyes.

Stamping down the grass in the spot he'd picked, Loki takes a seat and offers her his hand so she may sit beside him. He then unpacks the lunch he'd carried along with, handing her an apple.

"You WILL eat."

And she does. Taking little nibbles to fill her empty stomach. A sign that his tough love is working.

Sinking his teeth into his own piece of fruit, Loki stares at his companion. Watching as she picks at her food in silence. She looks so weak. So fragile. Paler than usual beneath the sun's golden rays. And yet she's still as beautiful as ever to him. Dressed in a canary yellow gown, she's like a drop of sunshine fallen to Asgard.

Her hair hangs loose about her shoulders, flowing down her back in natural waves. The breeze catches hold, reminding him of fields of wheat swaying in the hot, summer breeze. He can't help but reach out and grasp hold of a flyaway, tucking it back safely, his fingers gliding ever so softly along the shell of her ear as he does so. Swooning, Sigyn rests her cheek in the palm of his hand.

"I'm so sorry." She apologizes, looking up into his eyes. "I've been so-"

With a warm smile, Loki places a finger to her lips.

"One as beautiful as you should never apologize for anything." He says tender and true. "We all grieve in our own way."

A blush warms her skin. Her big eyes glisten with fresh tears.

"Somehow I feel all my life I've been grieving." Sigyn says sadly. "Everyone I've ever loved... Had I lost you too, I know not what I would have done."

He strokes her cheek gently with his thumb, banishing her tears away.

"You will never lose me." He swears. "I promise you that."

Gazing deep into his eyes, Sigyn finds comfort in the feeling of his cool skin against her face.

"Were you as big a mess as I when your mother passed?" She forces a smile.

"Oh, even more so." Loki admits honestly. "When my mother was taken from me, I was like a feral beast howling at the moon. I'd never felt so lost and alone. But you... You are _not_ alone, Sigyn. I want you to know that more than anything. I'm here for you, my love. Anything you need."

Her eyes fall to his wounded shoulder, still bandaged and held in a sling.

"You've been more than generous and here I've left you neglected."

"A day or two more in the healing room and I'll be as good as ever. My wounds will heal." He replies, acknowledging his bandaging. Still, he denies her sympathy. There's no way in Hel he'll have her feeling sorry for him. Especially when her wounds are so much worse. Cut so much deeper. "Yours are to be carried with you always."

Sigyn looks down at the fruit in her hand.

"Aye. They never do go away do they?" She asks.

"Nay. They do not."

Should he close his eyes, he can still see his mother's face. That heartbreak when he told her she was no mother of his. The ghost of her that haunts him, still. It would seem she now has company in his thoughts. As misery always does. For now should he close his eyes, he's greeted with the face of Freya. That look of betrayal as the life left her eyes.

 _I always knew you were a monster_

"How did she go, if you do not mind me asking?"

"Hmmm?"

His mind elsewhere, he hadn't heard what she'd said.

"My mother." Sigyn repeats. "How did it happen?"

 _Even when you were little_

Loki lays down his apple. He's suddenly not very hungry.

"Ah... Well you see, I... It all happened so fast, really." He stammers, his silver tongue turned to lead. Instead he tries to shift the conversation. "Tis far too soon to speak of such things, don't you think? Such graphic talk of blood and battle is really no language to be spoken in front of a lady. I wouldn't wish to bring you any further distress. You really don't want to know the details, my Sunshine."

Rolling her eyes, Sigyn too lays down her food.

"Oh please, spare me your chivalry." She groans. "I've heard talk of blood and battle since before you could lift a sword. There's nothing you could say that has not been said before."

 _You would be the death of me_

"I somehow doubt it." Loki replies somewhat beneath his breath.

Still, Sigyn expects an answer and so he offers her a truth. Not _the_ truth, but _a_ truth.

"You're aware Trolls are prone to cannibalism, yes?"

Sigyn doesn't reply. She doesn't say anything at all. Loki can only imagine what her mind must be thinking. Yet whatever it is, surely tis better than knowing her mother's killer is one and the same as her lover. Who, in turn, is one and the same as a dead Jotun king's son. Or better yet, a dead Jotun king's _dead_ son.

"It wasn't pretty. Nor did it make for much of a warrior's death." He continues without revealing all too much detail. "But had she not intervened as she had, I'm afraid tis as Odin had said. I would not be with you right now if it weren't for her courage."

More like he hardly made it out in one piece _because_ of Freya. He's lucky to be alive.

 _If it's the last thing I do_

Loki begins rummaging around in his saddlebag, removing a clay jug of wine and the crusty loaf of bread he'd stored away for the journey.

 _I forbid you_

"I owe her memory my gratitude and so much more." He continues. Breaking the loaf in two, he offers Sigyn her share. "It just pains me to think I'll never be able to repay her for saving my life. The best I can hope to offer is to do right by you."

 _Please don't hurt my_...

"You were right about one thing, however." Loki offers Sigyn a sly grin to cut his seriousness. "Your mother was absolutely terrifying."

There is no lie in that. None at all.

"Truly the most frightful woman I'd ever met."

Sigyn can't help herself. A laugh escapes her. Making Loki laugh along with.

"Aye. Indeed she was." The girl laughs, her mood lifting. "I don't think there were ever a person dead or alive who did not fear her wrath. Maybe except the Queen Mother, Frigga."

"Oh?"

Loki's curiosity is instantly piqued at the drop of his mother's name. Eager, he needs to hear more. And Sigyn is more than happy to oblige him. Nodding, she gulps down her bite of bread.

"I think it was mayhap my first or second visit to the palace." She recalls. "Frigga had ordered to have these simply... _amazing_ chocolate cakes made and-"

"I remember." Loki interrupts accidentally, making her stop in her story.

Confused, Sigyn stares at him.

"You remember?" She asks slowly.

Loki instantly tries to cover his mistake with a lie.

"Aye. She had them made for every Midsommar celebration." He says quickly. "Of course I remember. They were absolutely delectable. How could I forget?"

Prying the cork from the jug with his teeth, Loki scolds himself for his own stupidity. For slipping out of character if only for a second. So at ease with Sigyn is he that he's forgotten himself. Forgotten he's to be Theoric around her. _Not_ Loki. Never Loki.

"So sorry to interrupt." He apologizes. "Please, go on."

Taking a swig for himself he passes her the jug, in which she takes a sip.

"Anyway," Sigyn continues, "it sounds silly to say it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. With raspberry jam filling and fresh whipped topping and strawberries. And I remember the look on Frigga's face when I told her I wasn't allowed. That my mother would be furious with me should I partake."

Swirling the wine about in its vessel, Sigyn stares down at the jug.

"Frigga was a most courageous woman. That and a bit of a rule-breaker, if you ask me." The Lady smiles fondly. "She told me it was completely unacceptable for a child my age to not know the taste of chocolate. Tis her fault she got me hooked, really. You see, every summer after that, she'd send me home, my bags packed with a whole block of it hidden at the bottom. Twas our little secret. Had my mother ever found out, I know not what she would have done. Surely she would have been furious, Frigga spoiling her daughter and all."

Loki stares at her in a bit of shock. He'd never heard that story before. Clearly he hadn't any idea.

"Your mother certainly was... _strict_."

Sigyn laughs.

"Strict doesn't even BEGIN to describe her." She smiles, taking another sip. "Please, do not think she was abusive, because she most certainly was not. Tis just... You KNOW what she was..."

She trails off, waiting for him to fill in the blank.

"A Valkyrie." He replies deadpan. The word feels so foreign in his mouth. So strange.

"Aye. And Valkyrie are simply raised with a different set of rules." She continues, staring at the wine.

Sigyn holds the jug up in front of her as if placing it on a pedestal to make a point.

"To indulge is a sign of weakness. To live in excess is weakness. To show emotion is weakness. To love... Anything and everything can become a weakness for another to exploit." She explains. "A bit of chocolate can seem like such a harmless thing to you. But to me and mine, tis _rebellion_. Spoiled children make for _soft_ children. And the soft do not survive. Not in Valhalla."

Loki's found himself at a loss for words. A rarity. He'd never known all this about her mother, _or_ Sigyn, but then again he'd never asked. He'd never had a reason to. She'd always seemed so happy. He'd no idea what her home life was like. Her upbringing. But then again, he had no idea about _himself_ , either. It seems we all have our secrets. And hers are no worse than his own. Her past no sadder than his. Sigyn with her controlling mother bent to make her into something she is not. And he, _well_... He had one father who wished him dead and another who'd wished he would rot. In some strange way this makes him feel even closer with Sigyn. That they share such torrid pasts. That he is not as alone as he'd once thought.

Still, it makes Loki realize just how little he actually knows about her. What secrets he's yet to unlock. It does beg the question.

"Does that mean you..."

Tis his turn to trail off, but Sigyn knows exactly what he means to ask.

"Are Valkyrie?" She extends. Just as quickly she answers, "Nay."

And just like that she has nothing more to say on the matter, but Loki's not finished yet.

"You'd said love... But was Freya not the _Goddess_ of Love?" He asks.

"Aye. The title was given to her, but not as a badge of honor." Sigyn says with the slightest hint of a smirk. "She's been known by many names. Before that, she was heralded as the Goddess of _War_."

The Liesmith nods accordingly.

"Ah. That sounds MUCH more like the woman I'd met."

Taking a sip, Sigyn laughs.

"She'd gained the title of Love because of me, actually." She confides, staring down at her lap. "As my father tells the story, my mother fell in love with me the very second she first saw me enter this world. And so she named me Sigyn. Of old Norse meaning 'victorious girl'. Her little victory."

Contemplative, she pauses for a moment. Here eyes a million miles away and yet they've set themselves looking inward.

"Before I was born, the other Valkyrie begged of her to dispose of me as I lay sleeping inside her. They'd argued that I would only bring shame upon their order. That having a half-breed among their ranks would have made for a complete and total embarrassment." Sigyn reveals to him. "Tis not that they're cold and callous creatures, but to be Valkyrie means to be a _warrior_. And a Dwarf hardly makes for decent stock. But even still she took their ridicule and their words and dishonor and gave _me_ life." Sigyn swigs back a sip and hands her Theoric the bottle. "I guess she too was a bit of a rule breaker."

It's in that moment Sigyn comes to peace with her mother. Saying it out loud, getting it all off her chest, she can finally move on. Sigyn can finally put her memory to rest. And Loki listens. So honored that she trusts him, _truly_ trusts him enough to share such sensitive information with him. Sigyn shares with him her soul.

"Tis not that my mother didn't love me, she just loved me the only way she knew how. The _best_ she knew how. And she died thinking I'd hated her." Sigyn chokes up. "In the end, she gave her LIFE for my happiness. And I threw it in her face without as much as a thank you. I never got the chance to make amends. To tell her..."

Trying to hold back more tears, her words die in her throat.

"She knew." Loki answers, wrapping her up in his arms.

"How could you be so sure?" Sigyn asks into his chest.

"Because mothers _always_ have a way of knowing."

As can he only hope _his_ mother knows, as well. That he's sorry. That he loves her. Always and forever.

Reclaiming the wine, Loki as Theoric takes a healthy swig and holds it high above his head.

"To Freya." He toasts.

The Shapechanger then hands Sigyn the jug and she sits upright, taking a sip.

"To Freya." She joins, spilling the remainder of drink for the dearly departed. "May she find peace now the battle hath ended. And may she find joy everlasting joined with her Valkyrie sisters and mothers in the next life. The end is only the beginning."

Sigyn places down the emptied jug.

"I only wish I could have given her a proper funeral." She says with a sad smile. "But I know she wouldn't have cared for the attention."

"Your words were beautiful. Given the circumstances, I think she would have been quite pleased." Loki assures her. "When we return to the palace, I can lead a small ceremony if you like. Mayhap a feast tonight in her honor?"

Catching him off guard, Sigyn practically lunges for him, wrapping her arms around his midsection in a tight hug.

"Thank you." She says warm and sincere.

Loki returns the gesture, taking the girl into his arms.

"For?" He asks.

"Everything." She replies. "For this. For standing by me as I grieved. For pulling me from my despair and saving me from my sadness. For loving me as you do."

Though she stares deep into his eyes, she does not see him. Though she whispers words of love, it's not to him she's speaking of.

"I love you, Theoric." Sigyn admits with all her heart.

 _Theoric_. Loki cringes at the name.

Though she kisses his lips, she does not kiss _him_.

"I will marry thee."

Though she gives to him her hand, she will never belong to Loki.

They were right. For all their meddling, Amora and Lorelei all along were they right. Tis just as they had said.

Damn those sisters. Damn them to Hel.


	26. Cold Reception

**COLD RECEPTION**

Forget Mad Titans and rampaging Hulks, by far the hardest thing he'd ever done was say goodbye.

After taking some time to mourn, Sigyn had left on the Bifrost. She'd said there were things to be handled. Things such as settling her mother's estate and finally fulfilling 'Odin's' vastly overdue weaponry order. It would do her some good to be home again as there was much she'd longed to tell her half-brothers, both good news and bad. And though deep down Loki wished she would stay and never ever leave his side _ever_ , he couldn't very well tell her 'nay'. Not when he was the one who had given her cause for such mourning in the first place. Letting her go was the _least_ he could do. Even if it felt like he'd died watching as she'd walked away.

So in Asgard he stays as she tends to family. Using the time she'd be gone to begin preparations for the wedding. And though she'll only be away for but a few meager weeks, it feels like an eternity apart. An eternity of having his heart torn out day by bleeding day.

As he discusses dining options with the palace chef for the great feast to follow, Loki can't help but worry that this is all for not. That she will not return. Much like the summer she did not come back, nor shall she come back to him now.

It only gets worse with each passing hour as worry turns to dread turns to agonizing fear and so forth. The longer she's away, the deeper he can feel himself slipping back into the deep, dark hole in which she'd rescued him from. He finds himself awake at night. Pacing about the windows. Watching for a light in the sky. Something to let him know she's returned. To ease his troubled mind.

Loki wonders what is wrong with him. He considers skrying to check in on her. See how she is getting along. If she's alright. If she's where she'd said she would be. Make sure she's not screwing around on him behind his back. But then he scolds himself. This is _Sigyn_ he's talking about. Tis not like she's Lorelei. Some whore. He _trusts_ her. And yet Loki and trust have never been the best of bedfellows. Those whom he has trusted most dear in his life have always had a way of letting him down. Especially those closest to him. Those who would call themselves family only to find out were not even his blood. Those responsible for his fall.

And what _if_ Sigyn returns? What _then_? They'll get married and have babies and live happily ever after?

As the day approaches, Loki realizes more and more such a dream was never meant to be. Tis a beautiful lie. Too good to be true. The Trickster realizes both Amora and Lorelei were right. He'd gone through all the trouble and the heartache of offing the real Theoric for nothing. For all his pride, he needs to have Sigyn as his own. As Loki's. And no one else can have her. Not even his false skin.

Funny to think he's grown so jealous of _himself_. But tis something he must do. The simple fact is he can't keep lying to her like this. Nor can he keep lying to _himself_. Telling himself that he can keep these dual identities going forever. That he can live with himself only owning _half_ her heart. That maybe, just maybe, he can wake up with a smile each and every morning knowing she doesn't really love _him_. That she only loves a lie. That _all_ this is a lie.

The Trickster just can't do it. Not anymore. Mayhap it was all a fun idea at first, but now... Now tis just torture.

He just needs to hold her. To tell her. To hope against all hope and pray against all prayer that she will understand. That she will love him anyway. She _needs_ to love him anyway. And yet the Liesmith knows better. He should only expect to be disappointed. As is his whole life full of such disappointments. Something in which his already broken soul can't take any more of.

Tis maddening.

But before his madness can consume him completely, finally and _thankfully_ Sigyn returns. Though little does Loki know, she does not return _alone_.

Hearing word of her arrival, the Shapechanger is not ashamed to admit he practically sprints across the palace just to meet her at the entryway. His face all alight the moment he spots her. His heart singing with excitement as if seeing her for the very first time.

Dressed as Theoric, Loki rushes up to her. A smile on each of their faces as he takes Sigyn in his arms and sweeps her off her feet. Her fuchsia dress fanning out as he spins her about merrily.

Loki buries his face into her neck, smiling wide against her skin. A sweet giggle sings from her lips as he kisses her fervently. Up her slender neck and across her rosy cheeks. All over her perfectly plump lips and atop her little button nose. Anywhere and everywhere he possibly can. Every bit of exposed flesh is but subject to his bitter cold kiss. Loki lavishes her without restraint. For how could he restrain himself? For a man who's whole life is built upon such constant control, there is no holding back when his Sigyn is involved. He is but a hound whose master has been away all the terribly long day. How excited is he now that she's returned. How loyal.

So completely focused on the object of his heart, Loki doesn't even notice the two-ton gorilla emerge from just behind. The one with the flowing blond hair. And even more flowing red cape. _Oh yeah_. And that damned hammer at his flank.

The Trickster just about jumps out of his skin as a giant paw claps down hard on his shoulder. Followed by that booming crack of thunder which is a voice.

"Well, you must be Theoric." The God of Storms bellows. "Tis good to finally make your acquaintance."

Holding Sigyn tight, Loki doesn't move, doesn't speak, doesn't _anything_. He's completely scared stiff. His eyes wide and unblinking. Tis not until Sigyn pries herself loose of him does he even remember to breathe.

"Theoric, I would like very much to introduce to you Prince-"

"Thor." Loki as Theoric finishes her sentence.

Taking a deep breath, the Mischief God slips back into his act. Returning to a cool and calm demeanor as he spins around to face his oafish older brother.

"What a pleasure." Loki says most polite. "Sigyn told me all about your adventures growing up together."

Thor laughs. The older, more worthy Odinson is none the wiser of his little brother's tricks. Certainly not that his little brother is even still alive, let alone right there in front of him.

"Well, I'm sure she hasn't told you about ALL our adventures!" He bellows.

Loki's smaller frame jerks forward as the God of Thunder smacks him hard on the shoulder yet again.

"I'm sure." He grumbles, forcing a friendly smile.

This certainly puts a damper on his and Sigyn's reunion. That and an unwelcome hindrance in his plans. Loki pulls Sigyn aside.

"I was hoping we would have some time together before the wedding. Alone. There's much I'd like to discuss with you in private." He says in a hushed tone. "I had no idea we'd be having company."

"Thor isn't company. This is his home! He's like family to me." Sigyn laughs, hugging her arms loosely around Theoric's midsection. "And besides, I'd invited him to the wedding! Are you not excited?"

"Excited is hardly the word I would use." Loki mutters.

Hands raised in an apologetic fashion, the third wheel in question steps forward.

"Please. I do not mean to be a bother. I've not come to impede upon thy privacy. I know there is much still to be done and discussed before the big day. As is there much I must do. Tis been far too long since last I've visited with the fair Lady Sif and Warriors Three. It will be a great pleasure to see their faces again." Thor extends. "There will be much time for catching up and reveling in the past. I'd very much like to toast the happy couple on this most splendid occasion. If you would be so kind to join me for dinner."

"What a shame. We already have plans." Loki replies in monotone. The complete opposite to Thor's more boisterous mood. A mood he shared not ten minutes prior to the Worthy One's entrance.

Sigyn gives him a playful squeeze.

"Nonsense. We'd love to." She replies with a smile. "It would be our pleasure."

"Please." Thor returns. "The pleasure's all mine."

How warm his heart felt basking in the sunshine of her love. Now turned to ice. A bitter chill in the valley of Thor's shadow. Right back where he belongs. Where he's always been. Ever since they were children. Always competing for their place in the sun, only for Loki to be cast in the dirt. In the dark.

There's a growl rumbling about inside him as he watches the two pal about. Thor with that tender look in his eye. And Sigyn. HIS Sigyn with that giggle in her voice and smile upon her lips. That sweet blush to her skin as he leans in the kiss the top of her pretty, golden head.

"Until later, lillesøs." Thor says to her softly.

He then turns his attention back to the man at her side. The man whose eyes never leave him. Never blinking. So cold and severe.

Loki wraps an arm around Sigyn's shoulder. Holding her tight against him almost protectively. Possessively.

"I'd hope to learn more about the brave soldier who has so conquered our dear Sigyn's heart over dinner." The Prince says jovially. "Save your appetite, for tonight we feast!"

Either completely oblivious to Loki's cold reception, or mayhap he simply cares not, Thor extends his hand to the Commander in a sign of camaraderie. It takes everything in the Mischief God not to do the same to his elder brother as he did to Freya. Use his Jotun tricks against the Odinson. Instead, with feigned delight he returns the gesture, offering his hand in fellowship as is the customary greeting.

The two grab wrists and Thor, of course, grabs his but a wee-bit too tight. Wincing, Loki retracts his hand, rubbing at his sore wrist as Thor booms with a jolly laugh.

"I'll leave you to it, then." He offers before departing. "I'd love to chat some more, my friends, but I'm afraid I must be off. How cross my father will be should he hear I've come all this way and not see him forthwith."

"Father?" Loki mutters beneath his breath.

Dammit. Dammit to Hel.

Of course Thor would want to see the old man. Which means Loki has yet another act in which to perform. Which means his time with Sigyn is going to have to wait. His confessions to be put on hold. Something he's not sure is a good thing or a bad thing. In either case, it means less time with his beloved. Which most certainly is an annoyance thanks to Asgard's most favorite son.

"The All-father is not well." Loki constructs. "I'd heard he's been resting all morning. No visitors, I'm afraid."

"So wake him up, then!" Thor thunders with that nauseating smile of his. "There be no visitor here. I'm his son! How grand he shall feel to see I've returned!"

"Aye." Loki sighs. "How grand, indeed."

And with that, the Odinson takes his leave while the Laufeyson watches as he does so. His heart sinking further and further with every step.

How he wishes he could be in two places at once. How he wishes he were still on good terms or even _decent_ terms with Amora right now. He'd even take Lorelei's help he's that desperate. But his and Sigyn's reunion must be put on hold at the moment.

"So, what did you want to tell me?" Sigyn asks sweetly, her head resting lovingly on his chest.

He'll tell her. He will. He promises. But now?

"I'm sorry. Something's come up. Seeing you... It totally slipped my mind, I have this... thing." He rambles on. "Again, verily sorry. But I must leave you now. There's something I must take care of. For the wedding... A secret! Yea. A secret and... _um_... Bye."

A quick peck to her lips and Loki leaves in Thor's footsteps, chasing after him.

"See you at dinner!" He calls back to Sigyn from over his shoulder, leaving the poor lady quite baffled as he races away.


	27. Truth Or Dare

**TRUTH OR DARE**

"HO! Theoric! Come join us, my friend!"

Dressed as the Commander of the hour, Loki enters the private banquet area reserved for those of the more noble variety. Notably so the royal family and their kith. As is Thor. As once was he.

Tis an intimate setting with grand windows overlooking the entire golden city. A circular room warmly lit by the amber glow of fire. Adorned with rich tapestry and gilded etchings. Surrounded by tables upon tables heaping with food. More than any one God or Goddess could ever devour, lest that God be Volstagg. A feast befitting a king. Of the finest quality and taste for both the eyes and of the senses. Verily, a beauteous sight.

It turns Loki's gut sour.

Descending the stadium-esque steps that wrap around the perimeter, the Trickster God makes his way down to the center of the room where both Thor and Sigyn have been so joyously awaiting his arrival. As if they'd even _cared_ if he'd shown up, the way those two are cavorting about. Sitting beside one another. Laughing and drinking merrily.

"Come!" Sigyn calls to him. "Thor has been telling me all about his exploits on Midgard."

Loki takes a seat beside her on the lounge in which she so comfortably reclines, while Thor sits but an arms reach away in the large wooden chair decorated in antlers and fur. A great beer stein in hand and an even greater smile on his rugged, unshaven face.

"Such engaging stories of heroics and battle!" She gushes. "Of monstrous green hulks!"

"To be fair, tis only one Hulk." Thor chuckles. "Valhalla help us should there ever be more!"

They've yet to begin feasting without him. Instead Sigyn gobbles up his words as she sips at her wine. Having a bit of causal conversation as they lounge about and wait for 'Theoric' to join them.

"And a man made of iron!"

"Well, he's not actually MADE of iron." Loki as Theoric corrects. "Tis only an iron suit in which the mortal fool wears."

This gains the Trickster a raise of the eyebrow from a curious Thor.

Loki merely shrugs as he accepts a goblet of wine from one of the servants.

"So I've heard." He adds innocently enough.

As Odin, he'd spent the whole day humoring his brother. Allowing him the father-son experience the Prince so desperately craved. Making sure Thor didn't go sticking his nose into things that didn't concern him. Things that would most certainly expose Loki of his lies. Something in which he cannot risk. Not yet, anyway. Not before the wedding. Before he has a chance to tell Sigyn first.

"Well, what do you say we begin?" Thor booms with a grin, smacking a hand across his knee.

"I say that's a fine idea." Loki agrees. "Shall we move to the dining table?"

"To Hel with formalities." Sigyn smiles, resting her head on Loki's shoulder. "We're all comfortable. Let us stay here."

"Very well, then. Tis your engagement dinner." Thor replies. "The Lady gets what she wants."

"That I most certainly do."

How his bitter cold edge does melt ever so slightly as she glances up at him. That happy sparkle returned to her lovely eyes. That smile to her lips. Too bad that smile is not truly for him. But soon. Soon it _will_ be. As does Loki tell himself.

The sound of Thor clapping his hands together breaks his attention from Sigyn as the elder prince calls forth the servants to bring them their food. This makes Sigyn huff, sitting herself upright.

"Just because I wish to remain lazy does not mean I wish to be served upon. I LOATHE being served upon." Getting up from her seat, she gives her betrothed a quick kiss. "You two be good while I go make myself a plate."

"Always." Thor boasts as she leaves.

And then there were two.

All Loki had wanted was to snuggle himself in Sigyn's embrace. To hold her and kiss her and do nothing but spend every waking second with her now that she's returned. Instead, he's got Thor practically tied around his waist, breathing down his neck. As Loki watches Sigyn as she approaches the table, pining after her as she has a laugh with one of the servants, Loki can feel Thor watching him from out of the bottom of his glass. Those steely blue eyes that stare right through him.

Wiping the froth of his ale from his lips with the back of his hand, the Odinson watches as Loki does watch Sigyn with interest.

"She's a good woman." Thor offers as conversation, turning his head to gander Sigyn along with.

"Aye." Loki replies.

"You love her?" He asks nonchalant.

"Of course."

A host of servants arrive, parading about in a line their offerings of food. Smiling his thanks, Thor accepts bites of this and that as they pass. Loki takes nothing.

"Good." The Thunder God nods, chewing on a hunk of meat.

Loki begins tapping anxiously at the side of his leg with his fingers. This is awkward. Making small talk with his idiotic _not_ -brother in Sigyn's absence.

"I'm sure you're aware, I've known Sigyn since she were as tall as my knee." Thor continues on with a level temperament and tone. He takes a sip from his stein. "She's like family."

The Trickster God wagers a laugh.

"If this is the part where you play protective big brother, I-"

"Nay." Thor growls, breaking from his calm. "This is the part where you listen."

Elbows on his knees, Thor leans in close. Far too close for comfort for Loki, but that's the point. To intimidate. As is Thor's nature. Using his size. Tis what he does best.

"I care not who you are or what mettle of man you might consider yourself to be. Whatever great deeds you may pride yourself, it means little to not." He rumbles. "Hear me and hear me well, Commander Theoric. You shall NEVER be worthy of her. Not in MY eyes."

That look in Thor's eyes. So disapproving and filled with such hate. Tis the same he had worn as he stood over a broken and battered Loki having just been defeated at the nightmarish green hands of the Hulk. A look which he remembers well.

"She is more near and dear to me than you can and will EVER understand."

Though his tone may be hushed, a low rumble so that none other can hear, Thor is sure to make his words be heard. A warning ringing loud and clear to Loki.

"Should you hurt her in any way imaginable or not. Should you even CONSIDER breaking her heart, know that I will break you worse." Thor does threaten. "I will tear out your intestines and use them for fishing line in the pools of Hel. And that is only the beginning of your end. Do you understand me?"

Behind Theoric's eyes, Loki stares at his elder brother with a hint of shock. Or maybe _awe_ would be the correct word to use. In fact, if he weren't so petrified, he'd be downright _proud_ of his brother right now.

"There's a bit of darkness to you." Loki replies, returning glare for glare.

"When it comes to family," Thor replies back, "you have no idea."

The corner of Loki's mouth turns up into a smirk as the pair of alphas stare each other down. Tis as if the world around them ceases to exist. The room and all with it just seems to melt away leaving only them and this moment. That is until she enters the picture again. And immediately all returns to that it was. Thor to his stein and Loki to his feigned smiling self.

"Something happened." Sigyn observes, standing between the two, having yet to take a seat. "What did I miss?"

She can sense the leftover hostility to the air. All the remnants of heat and testosterone-fueled tension to Thor and Loki's staring match.

"I had simply invited my new friend Theoric here to join me for a little fishing sometime in the near future." Thor bellows. That great, big, reassuring smile returned to his lips. "We've so much to bond over, he and I. Verily, in your absence we've become the greatest of friends."

Sigyn raises a brow in scrutiny.

"Theoric?"

What an interesting situation to have been thrown into. He could easily blow Thor's cover. Reveal how his brother had threatened him with death. Painful, excruciating death. But in truth, the God of Lies is actually quite impressed. Terrified, but impressed. He'd even be so bold to say he _admires_ his brother for having borrowed a page from his very own book. To lie to one's face. And with a smile, no less.

"Aye. The greatest of friends." Loki repeats with a grin, his eyes dead set on Thor. "Just like brothers."

Whether she believes him or not, Sigyn accepts his answer as truth and with a defeated sigh takes her seat, reclaiming the spot beside Loki. Picking at her plate as he throws an arm around her shoulder, drawing her in tight. His eyes never leaving that of Thor's as he plants a loving kiss atop her lovely head. An action which does not go unnoticed to the Odinson, as it is just as he'd done earlier. Tis an action to signify she is _his_ and the Goodly Prince best keep off. Or else.

Seems even though the one does not know the other is his brother, it doesn't make the competition any less real. As has it always been a competition between the two. With Thor always the victor.

But not this time.

Those savage pangs of jealously become much less sharp and painful with her seated now beside him, held fast within his arms. That look on Thor's face as he buries himself back inside the bottom of his beer. It feels as if they be children. The three of them. Together again. Like their summers of yore. Only this time tis Thor who's in _his_ shadow. How good it feels for once. Even if he's the only one who knows it.

"So, Sigyn tells me you were friendly as children." Loki as Theoric strikes up a bit of conversation as he steals a morsel off Sigyn's plate.

"Friendly hardly justifies it." Thor answers in a kindly tone, playing amicable. "We were practically raised together for a while. She, myself, and my brother."

"You're brother?" Loki plays, feeling a bit puckish.

He knows exactly what Thor means, but still he wants to hear him say it. If just to hear the ire in his voice should he say his name. But Thor does not afford him the satisfaction. Instead, he swigs back his drink, leaving him wanting. Sigyn gently places a hand atop his, as if quietly telling Loki not to pursue this. And while normally he would take great pleasure in pressing the subject, in poking and pushing and instigating whatever it may be just for the fun of it, the Lord of Lies backs off it. If only for _her_.

And then suddenly she giggles. This sweet little sound that instantly breaks up whatever tension that seems to be lingering about the two men in her company. It comes on so unexpectedly, making Thor peek up from his ale and Loki glance over. Curious as to what could possibly be so amusing.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Sigyn giggles, waving her hands in the air about her face as if trying to banish her laughter away. "I just... I couldn't help but think... Do you remember the last time we were all in here? I mean you, myself, and Loki?" She asks Thor.

The God of Thunder places down his ale and scratches at his gruff chin, thinking. Even the true Loki sitting beside her hasn't a clue what she's referring to.

"Oh, come now! You remember!" She smiles wide at the Odinson. "It was just before supper and the kitchen staff had just finished setting up. You were bored, as usual, and Loki thought it would be fun to begin a game of truth or dare."

Judging by Thor's groan, it would seem he _does_ remember. Something which he had most certainly wished he hadn't.

"He dared you-"

"To drink from my father's goblet." He finishes her sentence, raking his hands through his hair. "I'd never been so ill."

"You vomited in that vase in the corner!" Sigyn laughs hard, clutching at her side.

Loki can't help himself, exploding in laughter. Even Thor cracks a smile, following suit. The three of them just laughing for nothing if not for old time's sake.

"And then I believe you did so truly dare Loki to take a dip in the garden fountain," Thor extends, "with his clothes on."

"I did not!" Sigyn protests.

"You did so!" Thor laughs. "And he did! Sopping wet from head to toe. Like a drenched rat did he appear. My father was so terribly mad at the pair of us. He, chilled to the bone and I, covered in sick as we sat down to the dinner table."

"And what did you choose?" Loki asks Sigyn even though unbeknownst to them he already knows. He remembers that part well.

"Truth." She reveals.

And not just the truth, but the truth of _all_ truths. The greatest truth ever told. Had she ever had the chance to tell it.

How nervous a much littler Loki did feel in that moment. How afraid as his older brother so boldly had asked her the question of all questions. Who would she prefer to marry? Thor or Loki? And what terrible anguish he did feel as his so-called father bursted in and broke up their fun before she'd even had but a moment to answer.

Now much older, tis funny how nervous he still feels towards that very same question. For even though he holds her tight, Sigyn knows not that it's _his_ hand she is holding. But soon. So very soon now. And he's petrified of what result may come.

Thor rolls his eyes.

" _Augh_... As does she always." He groans.

"Do not!" Sigyn huffs with a pouty little smirk, smacking his knee.

"Aye you do." Thor returns, laughing. "You ALWAYS choose truth."

"Fine, then. Ask me."

"Ask you what?"

"Truth or dare."

"Oh, please. Are we children, now?"

"ASK me!"

"FINE!" Thor relents with a grin. "Fine. Truth or dare?"

"Dare."

To this, the Odinson scratches at his stubbly chin. Eyes rolled to the far side, thinking most seriously on the matter.

"I dare youuuuuu..."

He takes one last big gulp of his ale and places down his stein, rising to his feet.

"To have a most glorious evening." He finally replies, eliciting a most childish groan from Sigyn. She's disappointed by his feeble dare.

Holding open his arms, Thor adds warmly, "And an even more glorious life together."

With tears in her eyes, Sigyn gets up from her seat to meet Thor in a hug, leaving Loki on the couch to watch as he wraps his big, meaty arms all around her smaller frame. The Storm God nearly conceals her completely.

"I'm most happy for you, lillesøs." Thor says soft and sweet unto the top of her head. "Be good to one another. And may the fates be good to you."

Releasing her of his embrace, Thor lets her go in more ways than the one. He lets her go literally to go be with Theoric, to return to her seat. But also emotionally. Inside, he lets her go. Which is not an easy thing for him to do.

"And now I dare say it's getting late." He concludes. "You have a big day ahead of you. Get your rest. Goodnight, Sigyn. Theoric."

And here comes the jealousy again. In like a rushing tidal wave and just as destructive. A barrage of emotion beating against him as Loki watches the exchange of farewells. And when Thor leaves, the feeling does not go with him. Instead it stays. Gnawing at him as he and Sigyn take their leave as well. Tis the first time they've truly been alone all day and he simply cannot purge the image from his mind. Of _her_ in _his_ arms. But that's not the only thing that's plaguing him.

"Something's bothering you." Sigyn mentions, noticing his pensive mood. Tis as if she can read his innermost thoughts. "You've been quiet all night."

"I... It is nothing." Loki lies.

"It IS something." She defends. "Was it Thor? Did he say something?"

"No. I mean yes..." He sighs heavily. "He's very protective of you and for good reason, but... That's not it."

"Then what is it?"

They've stopped. Together, they stand at her doorway. She, looking up at him, expecting an answer.

He should tell her. He really should. Now would be the most perfect time. But then there's that fear. That crippling, debilitating sense of panic that she will not understand. That she'll reject him. And he just can't take such pain. So instead he asks,

"Truth or dare."

With a puzzling look, Sigyn arches a waggish brow at him. To this, Loki laughs.

"Come now, truth or dare?" He asks again, this time in a more playful tone.

The Maiden smiles and bites at her bottom lip anxiously, wagering her answer.

"Truth." She finally gives in.

Of course she'd choose truth. Tis just as Thor had said. As does she always. As does she _deserve_ it. The truth.

Loki's heart thunders in his chest. Harder and faster than ever before. Face to face, he bridges the gap. So close that nothing, not air, not even his lies could possibly come between.

"Would you love me still if I were not to wear this face?" He asks seriously.

Such a curious question. More like a riddle. Sigyn's not sure how to reply. With a smile, she simply stares at him a moment, contemplating her answer.

"Do you plan on getting injured in battle?" She teases.

"Nay. That's not... That's not what I mean. I-"

"I know what you mean." She giggles to his chest. "Is THAT what is troubling you?"

She squinches her nose at him.

"Getting cold feet, are we?"

Her body sways playfully in his arms. Her hips swirling back and forth, making him sway along with.

"I am nothing if not always cold. Feet and all." Loki smiles down at her. "But, no. That's not it either."

His heartstrings are pulled so tight they might very well snap from the pressure.

"I WANT to marry you, Sigyn. And come Hel or high water, I will. I promise you that. I LOVE you. I ALWAYS will. I just... I need to know you love me, too."

She can see how much this means to him. How deeply it affects him.

Reaching upward, Sigyn strokes his hair gently. Her hand softly touching the side of his face. His mask he wears.

"In whatever face, I'd love you still." She answers in truth. "For it is not a face which makes a man. But in his heart..."

With a tender touch, her hand comes to rest atop his chest. Loki looks down. His eyes focused on her dainty fingers lain soft against his cold armor. Then back to her eyes which stare so longingly in his. Eyes so warm yet freezing. So sincere. Filled with such truth.

"Across the stars, from here unto eternity, our hearts are linked. From mine to yours. Nothing can change that." She swears. "I love you."

Leaning high atop her tippy toes, Sigyn reaches for a kiss. Her lips wicking away the tear trail down his cheek. Loki rubs the heel of his palm against his face. He hadn't even realized he'd started crying.

"I'm not marrying you for your looks, you know." She jokes to lift his mood. "Though, it is a very good face if you ask me."

Wiping the rest of his tears away, Loki exhales a tiny little chuckle.

Her small arms wrap around him. He can feel her squeezing against his sides so tightly. So strong despite her more petite size. She buries her head beneath his. His chin resting cozily right at the top of her crown. His nose deep in her flaxen gold hair. Just as he likes it.

This is just what he needed. Not just the hug, which is more than fantastic. But her. Her acceptance. Her love. Her bond. Her everything.

So then why is it so hard yet to admit the truth to her? To break up this tender moment? To ruin things?

Before he has a chance to tell her, the perfect moment has passed.

"Tis my turn now, as you know." Sigyn pipes up.

"Hmmm?"

So lost in the moment, Loki hasn't a clue what she means.

"Truth or dare, silly." She laughs.

"Ah. Well. Umm... I suppose... Dare." He replies a bit unsure.

He should have said truth. He should have _told_ her the truth. But instead he stares at her blankly, an internal struggle raging on inside him as she decides on a suitable act for him to surely embarrass himself with.

But then she gives him that look. That hungering, smoldering look he's come to know so well. The one that instantly quiets all those tormenting little voices deep inside his skull. That turns his cold blood hot with fire.

"I dare you to take a dip in the garden fountain." She says with a sultry smirk.

Loki can't help but smirk back.

"Might I remove my clothes first?" He flirts.

"Oh, please do." Sigyn purrs as she leads him to her lips. "But only if I may join you. My husband."


	28. All That Is Lost

**ALL THAT IS LOST**

The sun is hot and the afternoon lazy. The rain has since let up hours ago and Sigyn is already well on her journey home for the season. Wispy plumes of mist rise high above the sparring fields. The air thick with evaporation. That and young love.

Finding a dry spot beneath a leaning willow tree, little Loki lies down on his back to stare up at the crisp, clear sky. Nothing but the fresh, green grass and earth beneath him as he watches through the swaying branches as clouds pass by.

His listless, teenaged brain weighs so heavy with thoughts of _her_. He still can't believe he'd kissed her. And now? Now he's not so sure he can wait another year just to see Sigyn again. How can he possibly hold out till then? While on the outside he may present himself as his usual cool, calm self, inside he's totally freaking out.

As his thoughts start to wander, Thor grows ever impatient. For too long the elder Odinson had sat cooped-up inside the palace walls waiting for the storm to break and the fields to dry. And while Loki can so easily distract himself inside a book or even with the harmless prank from time to time, Thor yearns for adventure. Cabin fever suits him not.

He'd practically dragged his younger brother all the way out here for a bit of much needed training, only for Loki to be lost in his daydreaming. His head isn't in the game at all. He's absolutely useless to him.

Sword in hand, Thor whacks at the tall grass. Even the dandelions would make for a more worthy partner than his lovesick vegetable of a brother right now.

"Do you wonder how Sigyn would have answered?" Thor asks casually as he continues hacking. "I mean the question the other night. Who she would prefer to marry? I wonder how she would have answered had father not interrupted."

Loki pays no mind nor does he answer. Just continues staring up at the sky. In his heart he knows the answer, anyhow. Of course she'd choose him. After all, she'd kissed him. That means she loves him. Right?

"I think when I become king I'll take Sigyn as my bride." Thor reveals just as casual.

This certainly grabs Loki's attention, shaking him from his dreaming.

"WHAT?" He practically shouts.

"She'd make for a fine queen." Thor replies. "Don't you agree?"

Loki sits upright at attention. His spine completely straight. As are the hairs on the back of his neck.

"Of course Sigyn should be queen." Loki returns, his little voice nearly shaking with a panic which is most unlike him. "MY queen."

"YOUR queen?" Thor laughs. "Come now, brother. You know as well as I, tis MY place to be king. I'm first born. It is my right."

"Father says it is MY birthright, too!" Little Loki shouts. "We were BOTH born to be kings."

"Aye, but only ONE of us can ascend to the throne. As can only ONE of us marry Sigyn." Thor reminds haughtily. "So it seems only fitting and right it should be me. I AM the most optimal choice, after all."

"I think we should leave that up to Sigyn to decide." The smaller prince growls. "Who is best for her or not."

Thor cracks a grin.

"A wager then?" The elder prince goads.

Rising to his feet, Loki picks up his sword. He looks ready for a fight.

"Aye. A wager." He agrees.

"Finally!" Thor breathes in relief. "A contest! We shall battle for her love. Whomever the victor-"

"Nay." Loki interrupts.

"What?"

And here the Godling of Thunder had gone and gotten all excited for a fight.

"A match of strength is by no means a contest when you are the clear champion." Little Loki argues. "You have the advantage. Tis not fair."

"So then what would you propose, exactly?" Thor gambles, crossing his arms at his chest.

"Well it seems only fair if you've chosen the prize that I should choose the conditions." The smaller prince answers. "Therefor I choose a test of wits."

"A test of wits?" The much bigger and stronger of princes replies with a laugh. "Because you think that would give you the advantage, do you not?"

Smiling, Thor shakes his head at the ground. Like slits, his eyes narrow on his opponent.

"You think me dimwitted, don't you? That you are SO much smarter than I?" Thor steadies a growl. "Is that it?"

"Welllllll..."

That's it.

"Fine." Thor rumbles. "You want a FAIR fight. You've got one."

Bored, Thor had hoped to bate his younger brother into battle. To wake him from his incessant daydreaming and spar with him like men. But then Loki had to go and insult his intelligence. Seems the golden prince has gotten more than he'd bargained for. Now a healthy competition's turned to war. Now it matters not the prize. He simply has to win. As does Loki. No matter what.

"Tis Sigyn's birthday approaching, yes?" Thor asks, a plan forming.

"Yes, and?" Loki whines, awaiting the details.

"And so I've decided." Thor announces proudly. "Whoever procures the better gift, wins."

"That's it?"

"That's it." He confirms. "Tis of HER choosing. She decides. And whoever wins, wins the right to ask Sigyn for her hand."

Loki stands quiet for a moment, contemplating Thor's wager. Staring him down as if searching for any sign of deception. Though, deception is hardly the oaf's game. Finally he comes to a decision.

"Fine, then." Loki concludes. "I agree to your terms."

This should be easy, the Prince of Lies thinks. Tis obvious he knows Sigyn better than Thor. Finding a suitable gift should be of no struggle at all.

"Very well." Thor extends. "Let the better man win."

"You're on." Loki replies, more determined than ever.

And so it begins.

In the weeks leading up to Sigyn's birthday, Loki even convinces their father to let them travel to the Dwarf Kingdom of Nidavellir so they may present Sigyn with her gifts personally. The All-father decides to make a family trip of it. A good learning experience for his boys. A reason to become acquainted with the boundaries of their kingdom and of all the inhabitants in it. A chance for them to stretch their wings and leave the nest. Well accompanied, of course.

Ever the hasty one, Thor takes no time in securing a gift for Sigyn. Within a matter of days, he's completed his end of the wager. Which in his mind seems like a noble feat seeing as he typically likes to blow through these sorts of things in a matter of minutes. Or not at all. After all, shopping is for women. And he has much better things to do with his time than scour the realm for pretty baubles.

But at least he _has_ a gift. Thoughtful or not, he's _done_ with it. Which the same can't be said for Loki. Something that the elder Odinson likes to make a point to remind every chance he gets.

"BROTHER!"

Loki nearly leaps from his skin as an overly excited Thor comes bounding through the quiet library, tearing the tricky teen from his reading. Had it been anyone else to have caused such an uproar, he'd be cast with dirty looks and shushing. But of course being Thor, the golden child as he is, he's met with smiles of adoration as he comes clomping in.

"What is it?" Loki groans quietly, placing a marker in his book.

Pulling out a chair, Thor takes a seat beside his brother at the study table. He reaches inside his tunic, eagerly removing a small satchel.

"Look what came today!" He boasts with enthusiasm. "I had them made especially for Sigyn by the finest craftsmen of the royal court."

Opening the small leather bag, Thor removes a pair of earrings.

"Tis crafted of uru, forged by mystic flame in the belly of Nidavellir. And those stones? Precious fire rubies mined from the treacherous caverns of eternal Muspelheim." He says proudly. "I picked them myself."

While uru is not an element much known for its luster, akin to wrought iron, tis not a pretty metal by any means. And yet even Loki must admit these earrings are simply quite breathtaking. Truly. Beautiful beyond measure. Perfect for _any_ lady. Though he wouldn't have chosen fire rubies. Red is more suited for Thor, _not_ fair Sigyn. Perhaps if they were of a pale blue sapphire to match her eyes. Or mayhap _green_... And then there's one other thing...

"You do know Sigyn cannot wear these." Loki sighs with a roll of the eye. "She hasn't her ears pierced."

"So she'll pierce them!" Thor huffs, returning the jewelry to their bag.

Removing his place-marker, Loki returns to his reading.

"She wouldn't." He replies in a tired tone. "Sigyn doesn't care to call attention to her ears. Mayhap if you'd chosen a nice necklace..."

While normally this might be fuel to upset a prideful Thor, the Odinson can see right through his meddling little brother. The Trickster can't pull one over on him. Not today, at least.

"You're just jealous!" Thor laughs. "You feel the need to pick apart my gift because you haven't gotten anything at all! Have you, now?"

"Well, I..."

"You haven't!"

Now a normally calm Loki is losing his cool.

"I simply haven't found the perfect present yet, alright?"

He blows his top, causing all the other library patrons to turn and take notice. That look of disapproval on all their smug, ugly faces.

"Yes, well, better hurry up. Unless you WANT me to win." Thor returns, rising from his seat. "You're running out of time."

While one brother puts little thought into the matter, the other puts too much. Coming up with a million and one possibilities every second. And none are the right one. Not a one is perfect enough for his love. And Thor is right. He _is_ running out of time.

The hours waste away. As do the days and weeks ahead. And _still_ Loki has yet to conjure up the most suitable gift for his beloved. No matter what he thinks or buys or finds, _nothing_ will do. No fancy dress or jewel or bauble can capture her immeasurable beauty to him. No perfume or art or flower to properly express his undying love and affection. How could any silly little trinket possibly compare to all the burning desire and endless yearning his bursting heart doth so struggle to contain? Despite whatever vendor or market or smuggler he peruses. Despite the realm, however exotic. Loki will never find the perfect gift to so wholly impress the heart of his heart.

That is until the Trickster realizes he's not searched _every_ realm just yet.

Thor may pride himself with a most exceptional gift of uru from Nidavellir and burning red fire rubies of Muspelheim, but what Loki plans to offer is simply unparalleled. So rare and exquisite, even Thor will find himself green with envy. For who can boast to have received treasures from the savage lands of Midgard? If that doesn't prove his love to Sigyn, the little prince has not a clue what would.

Now, as per the numerous treaties and peace agreements, travel to Midgard is strictly forbidden. None have dared enter since well before the last great war between glorious Asgard and the lowly Frost Giants of Jotunheim. But that doesn't mean all is lost. Not for Loki.

There are _other_ ways in and out of each and every realm besides the Bifrost. _Secret_ ways. Like whispers in the wind, there are passages unknown and untold. Branches within branches on the sacred world tree of Yggdrasil. And all those secrets, all those whispers, they do belong to _him_.

So Loki steals himself away one night, with but a single day left before they're all set to depart for Sigyn's birthday, in search of the most precious gift the realm of Midgard may offer. Sneaking away while all the palace lay sleeping, Loki finds his way to the trap door between their worlds and crosses through it. Without hesitation.

Everything he has to go by of this world are from stories he'd heard from his father. That and the scarce few books of lore that have found their way to his personal collection. And now that he's here... Stories do it no justice.

Tis unlike anything he's ever seen and yet somewhat so familiar. Like looking through a mirror. This world, the backend of the glass. While Asgard is bright and shining and magnificent, Midgard is cool and dark and tranquil. Tis strangely comforting.

The sun has since set on this land and snow falls softly from the sky. Not like Jotenheim, though. This be no barren wasteland. Instead there's a quaintness. A warmth in the cold. Not of the skin but of the heart.

Stepping through the cracks in the universe, Loki finds himself in a market square in the heart of a small town he knows not where. Gas lamps dot the corners of every street and strings of colored light hang about each and every rooftop. In every shop window, a candle burns brightly and around every fir tree pretty ornaments are strung.

It reminds him of the solstice on Asgard, right around Jul time. As Loki strolls through the center of the town, children laugh and play at his feet. Throwing snow at one another as their mothers call them on home for supper.

This is hardly the savage land that he'd expected. Less evolved, sure. And primitive. And quaint. But by no means barbaric as the stories had led him to believe. Loki can only imagine what Thor would think of this land. How jealous he'd be of his littler brother on this once in a lifetime adventure.

A fanciful window display catches the young prince's eye. Full of toys and trinkets and wonder. Loki makes his way over to the sidewalk to garner a better look and that's when he notices the little shop beside it. A bookstore of all things. How ultimately perfect.

Excitement grips his little chest as he races across the way. Steam pouring from his lips as he presses his forehead to the frosted glass of the bookstore's windowpane. Hands on either side of his eager little face as he peers inside to all the treasures shelved away. His eyes like an eagles as he glances over each and every tome, jumping from one title to the next searching for just the right one.

The sound of a door slamming just beside him makes the little prince jump. He turns quickly to find the bookshop owner closing up for the night.

"Beklager." The man with coat and cap apologizes. "Vi er stengt."

"Please! I just need a moment." Loki begs in allspeak. "Tis of great import. I'd like to purchase a book."

From out of his woolen jacket, the older gentleman produces a key and inserts it into the door, ready to lock up.

"Kommer tilbake i morgen."

"But you don't understand. I've come a very long way and I..."

Loki trails off as the man turns away. Bidding the young boy a goodnight with the wave of his hand as he trudges away through the snow. But Loki doesn't despair. He doesn't get angry. Instead, the Trickster does smirk. That crafty little grin of his as he retrieves his hand from his tunic pocket.

"And I'm not leaving empty handed." He finishes his sentence.

In his open palm, green magic swirls. An object takes form. A key.

You see there's more than one way in and out of any door. And no door is ever truly closed completely. Not for Loki. Anything's attainable if you put your mind to it. If you want it _bad_ enough. And he wants this more than _anything_.

Once inside the shop, Loki takes his time perusing the goods. Flipping pages and reading excerpts by the green glow of his magic. So many stories. Too many to choose from, he wants to secure them _all_. But he knows better than to take more than he needs lest he call attention to himself. By all means, this little trip must be kept quiet. The last thing Loki needs is to rile his father. He has to move more quickly.

From the corner of his eye, something sparkles in the dim light of his enchanted flame. A book. As if by fate, itself, it calls out to him. With golden spine and green leather binding. Tis absolutely perfect.

Loki removes the handsome hardback from its spot, turning the cover to discover it's a book of poetry of all things.

" _I was a child and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea. But we loved with a love that was more than love, I and my Annabel Lee. With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven, Coveted her and me..._ "

Reading the words aloud in the silent hush of night, Loki knows for certain that this is the gift he'd been searching for. The perfect gift for Sigyn. Not only for her birthday, but to prove to her that his intentions are true. To fully impress his love. To _win_.

With a grin, he tucks the treasure safely inside his tunic and plunks down three pure gold coins upon the register counter. Then, just as quietly as he'd dared enter, the sneaky thief closes up shop and makes his way back through the portal. Back to his home of Asgard waiting on the other side.

But that's not the _only_ thing waiting for him.

Just when he'd thought he was home free. That his little snatch and grab had gone off without a hitch. That he had gotten away clean with the most cleaver of schemes. Disaster strikes in the most devastating of forms. Namely, his _father_. Odin. Awake and waiting for him as the little prince comes sneaking back inside the palace. Sitting high atop his throne. Mighty as ever. With that furious scowl worn grim upon his face.

"Loki..."

One word. Just one word is all the goodly king needs to express his deepest disappointment and outrage at his youngest son. One word to turn Loki's blood frigid with fright.

"I... I can explain."

Rising from his throne, the All-father descends the stone steps. Swift as the oncoming storm towards his son. Loki braces himself for impact as the brutal force comes down upon him, grabbing him by the collar of his tunic.

A soft thud comes between them as the book shakes loose, hitting the floor at their feet. Odin releases his grip on Loki, bending forward to retrieve the curious object.

"It's a gift." The prince reveals honestly. "I didn't steal it, if that's what you're thinking. I'd purchased it for Sigyn, I swear! The merchant was MORE than handsomely rewarded for-"

"Midgard."

Again, just one word is all the old man needs to convey his message. One word to remind the child he's done for. All is lost.

The transformation is immediate. While he was already more than angry before at his son's sneaking about, now he's absolutely furious. His pale skin turns red with rage. The veins protrude from his neck. Tis of great surprise smoke doesn't billow from his overly flared nostrils like some feared dragon or beast.

"YOU WENT TO MIDGARD?" The King shouts, shaking the book in his hand.

"I... I..."

His silver tongue does little to help the fearful child. He's been caught red-handed. There's no lie to spare him of his fate. The Son of Bor's infamous temper and wrath. That and his rash sense of judgement. And most severe punishments. Even for his very own sons. _Especially_ for his very own sons.

Without another word, the king throws the book in the alter fire, setting it ablaze and destroying Loki's gift for Sigyn. Destroying any chance the little prince had at winning her love and her hand.

"You are to NEVER travel to Midgard. NEVER!" Odin booms. "Do you have ANY idea what treaties you've violated just stepping FOOT on that rock? Had you been caught or captured or KILLED, there's no telling what peace could have been shattered. I-"

"ODIN!"

Frigga emerges from the hallway, dressed in night gown and robe.

"Not now, wife." Odin growls low. "Can't you see I am disciplining our son?"

"And I'd say you've disciplined MORE than enough for one night."

Coming in close, Frigga kneels down beside her son as to be closer to his level, wrapping him up in a motherly hug.

The adolescent boy stands strong, trying his hardest to fight back the tears that threaten to fall from his eyes. His lower lip quivering. A betrayal to his emotions.

He does his best to be a man, but his little heart is breaking. Watching through his misty eyes as the book he'd bought does turn to ash. And his soul along with it.

"Best go to your room, dear." His mother says tender and kind. Touching his face on either side, she looks him square in the eye. Her warm, comforting cornflower to his typically bright and verdant green. Now numbed. Cold. "We'll talk more about this tomorrow."

And off he bolts, racing towards his room like a kicked dog with its tail between its legs. Leaving Odin and Frigga alone. To chat.

"You've NO RIGHT in intervening, Frigga." Odin shouts, infuriated. "You undermine my authority as All-father!"

"I have EVERY right, husband." She returns, her voice stern but not shouting as he is. She doesn't need to. "All-father or not, he is MY son just as much as he is YOURS. I have every right in voicing my opinion on how discipline should be delt."

"We're not talking about harmless tricks here, woman! This is TREASON! There are LAWS!"

"Aye. YOUR laws. Must you really be so strict?"

"Strict? I'm no more strict than you do coddle."

"He's just a CHILD."

"Who's becoming a MAN." Odin expresses seriously.

The old man suddenly feels tired. Drained from all the stress and shouting. Returning to his throne, he sits and breathes. His head low. The situation finally getting to him.

"As his mother, you do not see it. But our little boy is growing up, my dearest. He cannot stay a child forever." He says slow, doing his best to calm and quiet his tension. "He must learn to realize there are RULES. And consequences to his actions. The world isn't safe. NO realm is. And I won't be around to protect him forever. If something had happened..."

Always so strong and sure, the tired old king lays his head in his hands hiding his face fraught with worry. His queen hurries over. Rubbing his back as he can hold the tears back no longer.

"Mayhap that is what you should have told Loki instead of simply yelling at the boy." Frigga consoles. "Don't you think, my love?"

Reaching up, he lays a hand atop hers, giving it a comforting squeeze.

"There are a great many things I should tell Loki." Odin replies solemnly. "But I suppose I'm just as much to blame as you. I'm no better in fooling myself into believing he can remain a boy forever. That either of them can."

Within the throne room, Frigga comforts her grieving husband, while up in his bedroom chamber, Loki mourns his loss alone in silence. He throws himself to his bed, face down in the thick, warm furs as the tears fall without restraint. Giving in completely to all the hurt and pain he feels inside. All that is lost. His complete and utter devastation.

So lost within his own suffering, he hardly hears the soft tapping at his door. Too soft to be anyone in particular. Certainly not Thor. And yet the voice on the other end of the doorway most definitely is.

"Loki?" The timid voice asks through the metal and wood door. "Brother?"

Loki says nothing, but turns over in bed to face the ceiling. His damp hair sticking to his tear-stained skin.

"I was just wondering... _um_... If there was anything you'd like for me to give Sigyn on your behalf?" Thor asks uncharacteristically soft. Caring, even. "I mean, I know what happened. With the book and all. But... There must be _something_ you'd like for her to have. Anything at all?"

What's the point, Loki thinks. He knows it. Thor knows it. Who's won and who's lost. The unquestionable outcome of Sigyn's favor. So why even try? Why bother?

And yet something possesses him. Something he can't even explain.

Sitting upright, Loki rakes his hand through his hair, sweeping it back off his face. He reaches for the quill by his bedside and whatever book that lay near. He cares not what it might be, he simply needs the paper in order to write. And upon flipping the novel open, he tears forth a random page.

For her, it comes so natural to him. Putting his thoughts down on paper. For if he cannot bestow Sigyn with a gift, then he will at the very least give her his word. And when he is done, Loki folds it in half and slips the bit of paper through the crack at the bottom of the door to Thor waiting outside.

Returning to his bed, Loki watches as the slip of paper disappears. As does Thor's shadow as the elder prince drifts away, back to his room.

He's no more tears to cry. All that's left is to sit and wonder. Wonder what Sigyn will think when she reads his letter. _If_ she'll even receive his letter at all. Not that it matters, anyhow. By the next day, his family leaves for Nidavellir without him. Leaving Loki confined to his room as per his punishment. And by next summer, he would not see her again, anyway. Or the next summer. Or the next. After a while, no one even speaks of these events, either. The wager. Sigyn. Promises and gifts. There'd be no victory gala in Thor's honor. No rubbing it in. Not even a tease or even a taunt out of Thor. Which is surprising given the prince's competitive spirit. There's not a word of it at all. All becomes lost to memory. Lost and forgotten in time and in mind.

Gone.

Like ash in the wind.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Google Translate is the Midgardian equivalent of allspeak!  
Also, I know Hiddleston is partial to Shakespear, but the poem Loki had read in this chapter is Edgar Allan Poe's "Annabel Lee"**_

 _ **Boy... Things are getting kinda dark and depressing in here. Whatd'ya say we liven things up with a wedding!? Next chapter!**_


	29. Joy And Sorrow

**JOY AND SORROW**

The big day finally arrives.

The banners have been hung and wedding bells are ringing. Flags of gold fly high upon every spire in preparation of the grand event to come.

The townsfolk have all gathered. Lords and Ladies in their finest. All for the happy couple, both Theoric and Sigyn. Even if none have heard their names before this day, they're the talk of the town now. With word of their engagement and this monumental occasion having reached far and wide across the land. Across the realms, even.

None have ever had the pleasure of attending a gala so grand and extravagant before. Everything is of the finest quality and all in pure excess. Wine flows like an endless stream and food so grand one would think they have died and gone to Valhalla. Tis the wedding of the millennia. More fit for royalty than the bride and groom unknown. But after today, all are sure to know them. They'll go down in history, he and Sigyn. Infamy, even. Until the end of time, itself. None will forget it. For that, Loki is sure of.

Surrounded by handmaidens in her bridal suite, Sigyn readies for her big debut. Dreaming of her walk down the aisle as they pamper her with freshly picked strawberries and other tasty little bites. Filling her head with words of praise and her cup with drink as they braid pretty white flowers into her lovely golden hair.

The palace hasn't felt this alive in such a very long time. Not since Thor's would-be coronation, despite however ill-fated it may have ended. But today is absolutely buzzing with excitement. Every heart brimming with good fortune and well wishes towards the happy couple. Even Thor puts on a happy face. Laughing jovially as a swarm of children hang like monkeys about his bulging arms.

All is happy. All is bright. All but Loki.

Sitting alone in his changing room, the bridegroom stares down at the gleaming helmet in his lap. Its horns sharpened and polished to perfection. The golden pieces of his armor buffed and shining bright. His hair styled impeccably. Flawless with not a strand out of place. Everything's exemplary. Everything but his nerves.

Beneath his leathers, Loki's sweating. His skin, a sickly green to match his cape. Anxious, his knee bounces in anticipation of the moment to come. The procession. The exchanging of vows. The big reveal. And what comes next...

A knock at the door lets Loki know it's time.

Standing, he places his horned helmet high atop his head and breathes in deeply, filling his lungs with a much needed confidence. And one last swig of his flask to fill his veins with vigor.

Then in a flash of green, Loki transforms himself into Theoric for what's to be the very last time and proceeds himself down to the temple so that he may await his bride.

Once again he wishes for Amora's aide. She would have made for a suitable 'Odin' in this situation. That way he wouldn't have to strain himself with being in two places at once. Lucky for Loki he's just badass enough when it comes to spellwork that it shouldn't be too great a problem. As long as no one tries to interact with the old king, the illusion will hold steady. The Trickster isn't much known for his ventriloquism, but it'll suffice. He doesn't expect the ceremony to carry on all too long, anyhow. Not past the "I do's", at least. But that's all that is needed. He can hold out just fine until then. And afterwards whatever happens, _happens_. Tis better to beg for forgiveness than ask for permission. Or so they say. Right?

And so Loki stands before the alter, looking out over the sea of people. Feeling ever mighty if only for a moment before his weakness finds him once again.

Sigyn enters and all thought leaves him. All worry and doubt and scheme and despair. A hush settles over the crowd. As does his mind hush to a quiet. Were his brain working at all, he'd tell himself to stand strong and noble. For his knocking knees to stop their shaking. But he cannot. Tis of great wonder at all how he can keep his illusions in play given his sudden stupor at the sight of her.

She's absolutely magnificent. As is she always. But right now... Words have no meaning. Nothing does.

In gown of white and gleaming metal, with intricate braid-work and lace throughout, Sigyn is beauty beyond measure. Upon her soft shoulders, a white stole of fox fur graces her creamy skin. And atop her head, a crown of hydrangea with little dots of baby's breath and pearls weaved into her shining hair. Let down in loose waves, it falls like starlight down her back.

She is astounding. As does she astound _him_.

For a man as jaded as he, to have personally witnessed all the beauty and horror the multiverse can offer, _still_ she amazes him. Of all the atrocities he's seen, some done in his name, Sigyn reminds him there's still so much wonder, so much magic left to behold. So much _good_. Maybe even in _him_.

From across the aisle, she looks to him and smiles. Without even realizing it, without any thought at all, Loki feels the corners of his mouth turning up into a warm and hearty smile to meet her.

That's the sort of effect she has on him. No matter how serious or dour. However cold he may feel. Sigyn brightens his black heart. She breathes light into the darkness in which his soul does dwell. And now, she couldn't be more radiant to him. Just when he needs her most. With but a single smile, she lifts him up. She gives him strength.

Dressed as a very dapper Theoric in his Crimson Hawk best, Loki takes her hand as she greets him at the alter. Such a rare feeling of pride and true accomplishment weighing heavy in his chest as she joins with him to become his wife.

Within his grasp, he holds her smaller hand within his so firmly. His thumb rubbing up and down atop the smooth skin of the back of her hand with such delighted anticipation as the hologram of Odin begins reciting the prayers. Thus the ceremony begins.

Such a life-like deception. Even at arm's reach, had Loki not constructed this illusion, even _he_ would be caught unaware. It certainly has Thor fooled. Standing in the front of the crowd, the Odinson watches the exchange of vows with a mixture of both joy and sorrow.

From behind Theoric's eyes, Loki watches Sigyn as she says her 'I do's'. Memorizing her face. Burning it into his memory. That sparkle to her eyes as she looks up at him so lovingly. She seems so _happy_. So totally and completely happy. He wants to remember her like this forever.

"In the name of the Realm Eternal, I pronounce thee husband and wife." The false Odin decrees. "What the Gods have joined, let none put asunder!"

The crowd roars in applause as the impostor groom brings his bride into a kiss.

Despite his nerves, there's an excitement stirring within him. An electrifying _thrill_ as Loki takes Sigyn in his arms and presses his lips to hers before _all_ these people. But most importantly, before Thor in particular. That churning of suspense not knowing what's to come next. And yet he's fine with that. The not knowing. Because there's one thing he knows for certain.

For better or for worse. In sickness and in health. For richer or for poorer. Prince or no prince. Theoric or not. In whatever face he wears, Sigyn will love him. Truly and verily love him. Because she'd said so. Til death do they part.

His lips part to allow just the slightest bit of tongue. Nothing indecent, but just the perfect amount to display his passion.

No longer will he have to wallow in his darkness. Alone and consumed by his rage. With her love and her light maybe, just maybe, there is hope for him after all.

Sigyn smiles into their kiss as he cradles her head within the palm of his hand. Her left ear nestled between his forefinger and thumb. He gently caresses the lobe so tender and dear.

And she will understand. Of course she will. He _knows_ she will. Loki's confident in that.

After all they've done and shared together. All they've been through in their short but intimate courtship. All those youthful summers long ago. There's no denying their love. Their deep and personal connection. Their bond.

Combing her hand through his hair, Sigyn twirls at his braid around her finger.

The years apart had been cruel, but fate was so kind to have returned her to him at last. And that's why Loki's so sure of this. If for nothing else than because they were simply meant to be. She is his constant. His rock. His home. His soul. His _everything_. So no matter the outcome. May they clap him in chains and throw him to the dungeon. May they hunt him. May they fear him. Whatever may come, she will love him still. Sigyn will always return to him. She will _always_ love him.

And to Hel with everyone else.

The transition is gradual but the response is abrupt. All in unison, a gasp fills the audience as the Prince of Lies sheds his grand illusion for that of his truer skin. Theoric fades away to the ether, revealing Loki in his stead.

At first Sigyn's unsure as to what could have caused the alarm. Why the cheers have suddenly turned to panic. Her mind simply can't register. Processing the turn of events as another attack on the palace. Just like the Dark Elf invasion. The darkest day in Asgard's history. A wound still fresh on so many an Aesir's memories.

The bride breaks from her kiss, instinctively turning towards the crowd to scan for a threat. Never does the thought dare cross her mind that the threat lies elsewhere. Namely standing right beside her. Her hand within his.

Most start to flee, but one charges the stage. Thor. Followed by his most trusted warriors and friends. Their hands to their weapons. His gripping Mjolnir tight as he battles against the tides, the sea of people trying to escape this maelstrom of a mess. Such a look of anger upon his face. An anger that she has never seen or known.

This feels like a dream. Or better yet, a nightmare. Sigyn turns to her husband for some stability in the chaos, but all she's met with is more chaos. That and the answer to all this confusion.

"Loki."

The name feels so strange on her lips. Tis one in which she hasn't spoken in quite some time. Still, the recipient of that name revels in the sound of it. Head cocked in sweet adoration as it rolls from her tongue and into his heart.

"Surprise, my love."

Loki glances down at her with this look about him like his heart's all aflutter. A juxtaposition with kind eyes and tender smile amid all the anarchy. Like nothing else matters. Not Thor climbing his way to the altar. Not Sif and her great sword raised high. Not even Odin as he flickers out of existence, like he was never there at all. And neither was Theoric.

Like a mallet to the gut, Sigyn's hit with the sudden realization that the man she'd thought was her beloved Theoric was nothing more than a lie. That the man she'd loved, whom she'd confided in, and over all _trusted_ , was Loki all along. That she had given herself so freely to this grand deception. And in every way imaginable. She gave to him her body. Her heart. Her all. Only for him to pull the rug out from under her. To send her falling.

The room feels like it's spinning. Faster and faster out of her control. Sigyn feels herself growing faint. Her mind fuzzy. Her head dizzy. And her heart broken.

Stars fill her eyes and the room grows black. Her last sight is that of Thor reaching for Loki and tackling him to the ground. The same ground she finds her body crumbling upon, just as her whole world comes crumbling down. As the darkness consumes her. The quiet taking control of the madness. And Thor seizing control of the day.

* * *

"Well that was completely unnecessary."

From way up high, seated in the balcony and cloaked in magic shadow, two sisters sit and watch the ordeal. The peanut gallery to this sideshow event.

"Don't you agree, sister?"

Amora turns to Lorelei to find her younger sister weeping. Crying alligator tears into her woven hanky.

"Sister?" She repeats herself with a disgusted sneer.

"I'm... I'm sorry. Tis just... Oh, I do so LOVE a wedding!"

Drying her eyes, Lorelei sniffles out a playful giggle. Her sister cracks a grin.

"Aye. Tis truly a thing of beauty." She agrees, snuggling in close to rest her head on her little sister's shoulder. "I'd like to think of it as my greatest creation, yet."

Conjuring up a bottle of sweet honey mead and two glasses, the Enchantress cracks open the bottle and prepares to make a toast. Watching in glee as Loki's dragged off to the dungeons and poor Sigyn's limp body is carefully picked up off the stage.

And yet for these two sisters, all the world is a stage. With them the ones pulling the strings. Making their puppets dance in their theater of war.

"This looks to be the end of act one, dear sister." Amora says as she raises a glass to her blood-red lips. "And the end of Asgard as we know it."

Tis time to let the curtain fall. And the Realm Eternal along with it.

"On to phase two."

* * *

 _ **A/N: Oh I do so love a "bwa ha ha" moment! Don't you? LOL  
And so ends the first arc to our story. But before we move forward, a couple things...  
The title comes from the HIM song 'In Joy And Sorrow'. Another song to add to my playlist! If you have any good ones to add too, send them along and I'll give 'em a good listen! Maybe it'll end up as one of my chapter titles.  
Also, I have to credit Thor Annual #14 for a bit of stolen dialogue.  
And last but not least, sorry for the sporadic updates. The holidays are Hel... **_


	30. Common Ground

**COMMON GROUND**

"Where's Odin?"

Once more Loki finds himself locked inside a cell. His old cell, in fact. His home sweet home away from home.

Though all his personal belongings have since been removed, the few he hadn't trashed, that is, the Trickster makes himself as comfortable as best he can. Sitting with his legs crossed in the center of the cold, slate floor. A hand on either knee.

"I'll not ask this again." Bellows an angry Thor. "What have you done with father?"

To this, Loki squints his eyes in feigned confusion.

"I'm sorry... Father? Did you say Father?" He plays cheekily. "Now who's father do you mean, exactly? YOUR father, is it? Certainly you don't mean my-"

There's a surge of energy. An overwhelmingly loud boom followed by the sound of crackling as Thor slams his hammer against the barrier separating him from his prisoner. And while Mjolnir may or may not have the power to break through such defenses, it's certainly enough to shut one mouthy manipulator right the Hel up. For one whole second, that is.

"You only ever come to visit when you WANT something. You know that? This marks twice, now. Twice! We simply have to cease meeting this way." Loki quips, folding his arms at his chest. "You know, would it KILL you to at the very least ASK how I've been lately before laying into me like that? Say something like... Oh, I don't know. How I've missed you, dear Loki. I'm so glad you're not dead, brother." He pauses a moment, waiting for a response he knows will never come. "No? Nothing? Nothing at all? Just right into it, then? Where's Odin?"

Thor narrows his eyes on the caged God. His grip tightens around his hammer. So tight one could hear the creaking of the leather wrapped around its sturdy handle.

"Where. Is. Odin." He growls through grit teeth.

Loki sighs.

"A one-track mind you've got." He whines. "The least you could do is HUMOR me for a moment. Give me SOME motivation to answer into your demands. Tell me... Did you mourn? AGAIN, I mean. Did you toast to my memory? Hold feasts in my honor? Tell me, brother. Did you miss me?"

"I've mourned you enough for one lifetime, Loki. And yet somehow, you just keep coming back." The Odinson mutters. "Continue to try my patience and I promise to make your next death a more permanent endeavor. Or does that not HUMOR you enough, my brother?"

Leaning forward, Loki grins wide.

"There it is." He reels in excitement. "There's that darkness again. You want so bad to let it out. Fine! Come at me, then! Pummel me into oblivion. That's the way it's always been between us, yes? As will it ALWAYS. Me, your punching bag. The black sheep to keep penned and herded. But know this. Lay a FINGER on me and I'll give you no answers. Touch me again and I promise you you'll never find your father, Odin. EVER."

"The way it's always been..."

A well-met blow. Verily worse than any punch.

Thor's brows knit together. Regaining composure, his gaze finds the floor. And with a small but sad smile, he can't help but shake his head to the memory.

"Maybe you're right." Breathing in deep, he says calm. "I'd really thought we'd grown past all of that. That I had actually gotten my brother back. Just before you'd gone and died the hero. That we had found some common ground."

"Aye. Twas a beautiful lie, was it not?" Loki adds with the tilt of his head. "There will never be a common ground between us. Nor will I ever be your brother. That broken child you kept concealed inside your shadow? That LIE? He's not coming back."

Thor nods softly.

"I guess I was wrong about that. About everything." He replies with resolve. "So you're right. We ARE enemies. And that's the way it's ALWAYS going to be between us. But what I don't understand is what SHE has to do with all this? Why bring Sigyn into the fold?"

Loki's smile fades.

"She has nothing to do with this." He answers solemnly.

"And yet YOU dragged her into this." Thor replies, pointing his mallet in Loki's direction. "I want to know WHY."

But Loki says nothing. Just frowns, staring at the wall to his right. Avoiding Thor's line of sight.

"I wish to see my wife." He demands.

"I'll allow you no such thing." Thor returns. "You're not leaving here until you've given me answers."

"Then you'll get no answers." Loki returns just as smugly. "Not without a few... conditions."

"Conditions?" Thor tries not to laugh. "You think yourself in a place to make demands?"

"But of course." Loki sing-songs. "I could care less what happens to the old man. But if you ever want to see dear old daddy again..."

Muscles bulging, Thor crosses his arms at his chest to match his brother. As does he match eyes. Glare for glare as they stare each other down. So different yet so very much the same. Two brothers, like opposites of the same coin. And as Loki's opposite, Thor knows exactly how that twisted mind works.

If it's to be games between them, fine. Let's play. Tis a game Thor's sure he'll win. He has no other choice _but_ to.

"Fine." Thor relents. "Tell me your terms."

However, this does not sit well with Sif.

Waiting patiently along with her fellow warriors at the entrance to the dungeon, the Lady has done her best to hold her tongue and keep from butting her way into Thor's interrogation of his fiendish younger brother. Alas she can keep her opinion no longer.

"Tell me you're not seriously considering making bargains with this liar, Thor?" She argues. "How many times has he deceived you? Deceived ALL of us?"

"I've not considered anything yet." Thor returns, still staring at Loki. "Nor have I decided to play his game. But... That been said. He does have a point. And there's no harm in just listening."

Thor glances over at Sif to catch her scowling.

"Personally I'd rather just BEAT the information out of him than listen to another word from his foul mouth." Sif grumbles.

"Aye, but it could prove amusing." Thor replies with a forced smile, turning back towards Loki. "So what do you say, brother? HUMOR me."

Having gained his audience, Loki stands at their attention. Chin up. Arrogant and proud.

"I'll be granted full immunity." He begins most brazenly. "As well as a pardon for my crimes, SHOULD I assist you in locating Odin."

"That's if he's not already dead." Sif cuts in. "And by your hand, no less."

"I assure you he is very much alive." Loki remarks condescendingly.

"Oh, he ASSURES." Sif turns to Thor. "Well, in that case..."

The Odinson says not a word, just stands quiet and observant of the pair's exchange of terms. Arms crossed. Deliberating. Until finally, he speaks.

"I believe him." He utters.

"YOU DO?"

Both Sif and Loki say in unison. Both just as equally shocked.

"But WHY?" Sif argues.

"So you'll let me free?" Loki asks.

"The why matters not. I said I believe him." Thor answers a very tiffed Sif. He then looks to Loki. "I never said I'd let you out. Nor do I believe that to be one of your conditions."

Hands clasped behind his back, Loki shifts his stance. Self-assuredly teetering on the backs of his heels like an impatient child.

"Then how else am I to assist you? Certainly not from in here but out there." He returns. "I've assisted you before on such quests. You know I can prove useful."

"That is until we've reached beyond the castle walls" Sif adds. "Perfect for him to make his escape. Or spring a trap."

Rocking back and forth on his feet, Loki leans forward, balancing on his toes as he addresses Sif.

"Thor may need ME on this mission, but he most certainly does not require YOU."

"Who says I need you at all?" Thor asks, breaking up Loki and Sif's little squabble. "Should you TELL me where to find him, I could go it alone or at my own choosing. With or without your aide."

"Ah, but therein lies the problem." Loki grins haughtily. "Tis a place only I know how to get to. A place where no map or guide will do you good. That is aside from the map in my head and myself as your guide. You see, even if I told you, you'd still require me to lead you."

"Aye. Lead us to certain death." Sif continues to add. "Can you not see that he's LYING?!"

Loki ceases his teetering. With his feet a shoulders width apart, he stands sure. His features serious.

This is getting nowhere, the God of Lies thinks. If he knows his brother, and he argumentatively believes that he does, then he knows that Thor won't cut him loose without a _reason_. And a damned good one.

They've played this game before. Thor in his desperation setting Loki free only for the Shapechanger to do what he does best. Not an ultimate betrayal, but given the situation they've found themselves in, it doesn't paint the Trickster in a most positive light. He'd played the King. He'd hidden Thor's father. The _ALL_ -Father, at that. A crime not short of treason. So if Loki wishes to be set free again, for Thor to _trust_ him, even just a little, the God has to offer his fake brother a real truth. Something the head-strong and heart-heavy oaf can believe in.

"You're right." Loki replies. "I have not been completely honest with you."

"See?" Sif huffs, throwing an arm in the air at his direction.

"I'm a liar. Tis what I do best. As do I have but one ulterior motive." The Trickster says cooly. "Another reason to ask for my freedom."

"Which is?" Thor begs the question.

His face remains blank. His steely eyes, clear. Trying to pick out the deception from the truth in Loki's lies. Trying to do his best to decide the fate of his manipulative brother. That and the fate of Asgard along with him.

"Well... I AM newly married." Loki hints a tad coy. "I would not deny my bride her wedding night."

Though he's hardly uptight and squeamish, the Trickster doesn't wish to have to spell it out. Especially in front of a lady. No matter how crude or unscrupulous he may be. Or how unladylike the Lady Sif most definitely is. He _does_ have his morals. Loki can only hope Thor is smart enough to fill in the blanks on his own. And given the strange look on his face, it's clear that the dullard most certainly can.

Thor can keep his resolve not a second longer. All at once, that stony-faced expression is torn to shreds in a spirited fit of laughter. Much to both Sif and Loki's confusion.

"I'm sorry." Loki sneers. "Did I say something amusing?"

Doubled over, Thor smacks at his knee.

"See, Sif? Did I not say he would humor me?"

The God of Storms stands upright and tall, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes as he wills himself to calm his giggling. Loki arches an eyebrow. That's about all he _can_ do.

"You know what?" Thor stifles a chuckle. "Fine. I'll grant you your freedom."

"WHAT!?"

Sif's absolutely livid. She thinks that Thor's gone mad.

"He's right." Thor grins at his brother. Though the sarcasm isn't lost in his words. "Tis his wedding night, after all. Far be it from me to keep him from his bride."

Hailing a guard, the Prince calls for Loki's release, much to everyone's amazement. Even Loki treads carefully out from that of his cage. Expecting a catch somehow. For Thor to just throw him back in there. Or worse. Break all his limbs. Snap his neck. _Something_. But that something never comes. Instead the blundering oaf just stands there. Grinning at him like he's the only one in on some joke.

Loki's eyes flit from Thor towards the exit. The Warriors Three are just as befuddled. Their hands hover at their weapons, unsure whether or not they should use them. Even Volstagg has stopped his feasting on the leftover wedding treats he'd brought with.

Loki laughs at the confusion.

"Okay, you got me." He grins at Thor. "What is all this pretense?"

"No pretense." His brother replies, hands at his hips smugly. No longer gripping Mjolnir so tight.

"So, you'll let me go, then?"

"Aye. Go. Be with your wife."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

Something doesn't feel right about this situation. It just seems too _easy_. And this isn't like Thor at all to just let him off the hook so freely.

"Well, never look a gift horse in the mouth..."

Loki aims to take his leave, but Thor stops him. The God puts his arm out to block his escape.

"And there's the hitch." Loki chuckles with Thor's hand to his chest.

"No hitch." Thor grins at him seriously. He's no longer laughing. "Call it a wager."

"Fine, then. A wager." Loki grins to match Thor. "A wager for what?"

"That you'll be back in this cell by evening's end."

"Why? Because you'll put me there?"

"Oh, nay." Thor defends. "I'll leave that up to YOU to do it."

Again Loki laughs.

"Then you really ARE mad!" He cracks. "Put MYSELF in that cell?"

"Then you'll accept my wager?" Thor asks, self-assured.

"Why not. You've caught me in a sporting mood." Loki replies just as snobbish. "What are your terms?"

"Return to your cell on your own volition by the end of the evening and you forfeit any further conditions. You WILL help me track down father. And you'll do it free of bargain." Thor says simple enough. "And after the All-father is safely returned, so shall you return to the dungeons."

"And when I DON'T return tonight?" Loki asks slyly. "When I win?"

"You won't." Thor answers simple enough.

Removing his arm from across Loki's chest, Thor allows the Liar to pass. He steps out of his way.

"Be seeing you, brother."

That lofty grin wanes from Loki's lips. Sneering, he looks his brother down. He's not at all comfortable with that smile on Thor's face. Or the surety in his tone. Still, he's determined to prove the Odinson wrong. To make him eat his wager. To win. Lucky for Loki, he knows he's already won.

"Nay." Loki adds as he pushes past Thor. "And don't call me ' _brother_ '."

There's a great unease to the air as the newly freed Trickster passes by the Warriors Three. Loki with a newly reclaimed grin and his nose to the air and the Three ready to pounce. Ready for the command to charge that is surely not to come. All they can do is stand there and watch as he passes. All except Volstagg who continues to fill his belly with food.

"Be sure to sample the roast." Loki pats at the Voluminous One's belly as he goes. "Absolutely scrumptious."

None say a word. None dare to go against Thor's orders. No matter how badly they want to. Especially Fandral, who's just chomping at the bits to wipe that ghastly grin from Loki's narrow face. The very moment that slithery snake exits the dungeon, he just about loses it.

"What is WRONG with you, men?" He cries to his fellow Warriors. "I can understand Hogun's silence. The Grim hardly speaks a word on even the most natural of occasions. But you, Volstagg? Must you really stuff your face whilst the enemy dare watches?"

"The greater crime is letting such a feast go to waste." Volstagg replies in his usual chipper tone. "What a waste of good food..."

"And you!" Fandral turns his displeasure to the attention of Thor. "How could you just set him free like that? I understand he's your brother and you care for him and all, but that slippery scoundrel has eluded death and justice more times than Volstagg here has children! Who KNOWS what scheme he's yet to unfold. And YOU let him escape!"

"He hasn't escaped." Thor replies quite calm despite Fandral's reaction.

"Not yet!" The Dashing returns.

"I hate to admit it, but I have to agree with Fandral." Sif argues. "Loki knows Odin's whereabouts. He's obviously been masquerading about as the king for who knows how long since his return and there's no telling what he's done since or has planned next. We can't afford to let the Liesmith stray from our sight, much less set him free to do what he so pleases. He doesn't DESERVE your trust, Thor. So why set him free of his leash?"

"Because it is not Thor's leash which restrains him." Hogun shares his wisdom. "Loki wears his own collar."

The group stops in their discussion. Each of them staring at the seldom spoken Grim in silence. So silent, one could hear a pin drop.

"Now what the Hel is THAT supposed to mean?" Fandral shouts, breaking that silence.

"It means he'll be back." Thor replies.

With his back against the wall, the Prince takes a seat beside Loki's cell. It's obvious he's not going anywhere besides waiting here for Loki to return.

"And how can you be so sure?" Volstagg asks as he finishes the last of his provisions.

"He said he wanted a pardon of his crimes." Thor reminds.

"Aye. And?" Sif remembers surely, but still it makes no sense.

"And I'm not the one for such a task." He answers.

"Of course." Fandral returns. "Such a task is suited for Odin. Which is yet another reason WHY we should return the All-Father to the throne post haste!"

"Nay. Only Loki can absolve himself." The peaceful Hogun elaborates, kneeling alongside Thor to wait with his brother in arms. "But some crimes can never be forgiven."

Tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling, Thor adds with a sigh, "Sigyn is going to bloody murder him."


	31. Broken Promises

**BROKEN PROMISES**

The fools.

In what multiverse could Thor possibly imagine Loki would be so stupid as to return to his own cell. And of his own accord, no less. How absolutely trusting. Tis pathetic, really. The Liar God almost feels sorry for the gullible sap. Almost.

Glancing over his shoulder to see if he can spot a guard tailing, Loki takes note that he's not even being followed. That there's no eyes on him at all. He's completely in the clear. One hundred percent free. So why even bother going back? Why bother aiding Thor in his quest to return the rightful king to his throne, at all? To help him find his father? A father who means none at all to Loki.

Thor's given him no incentive to stay and help. Nor has he forced him to. There's nothing keeping him here. Nothing at all. As is there no one to stop him from gathering up Sigyn and heading on his merry way. To where? Well, they can make a life together just about anywhere, really. Having had his taste of power, a fill to keep him satiated well enough for one lifetime, the Mischief God has found it rather boring, really. And tedious. And dreadful. And did he mention _boring_? Now the future is so wide. He can go anywhere. Do anything. And Thor has practically handed him the freedom in order to do so. On a silver platter, even.

But first, he just wants to see his wife.

Upon opening the door to the bridal suite, Loki's never felt more accomplished. With his chin up and head held high, the mighty God enters to seek out his beloved. His chest puffed out proudly as he crosses the threshold. Removing his gleaming gold helmet, Loki bows to his bride waiting inside.

"My dearest heart. My love." He speaks sweetly. "How I've missed thee in our absence. Shall we never part again."

Placing down his horned helmet, Loki makes his way towards Sigyn who is waiting by the bed. Not quite on it, but somewhat leaning against it. Like she's not quite sure what she's supposed to do in this situation. This moment. Whether to sit or stand or lie. But however she's positioned, she does so rather uncomfortably. Almost like she's dreading what she's sure to come next. For them to consummate this arrangement. An arrangement in which she'd entered blindly. Or better yet, been tricked into. All the while as he lied right to her face.

So consumed by his own ego is he, how absolutely glad to be reunited with his love, Loki doesn't even notice her rigid posture as he envelopes Sigyn in his arms. That straight spine and cold sweat upon her skin. That sheer look of terror on her face as his hands run up and down her body.

For all Loki knows as he holds her so dear is that things are back to as they should be. That even without Theoric's skin, everything is just the same. That all is right with the world. She loves him even still. Just as he loves her.

Loki buries his face in the crook of her neck. His nose nuzzling against the back of her ear, right inside the fold and breathes her in deep. Losing himself within her sweet scent.

"Nothing can keep me from you, my most cherished."

Sigyn shudders in his embrace, but not from cold, nor deep desire. Tis something else.

"What's wrong, Sunshine?" Loki asks with a soft smile.

He pulls back slightly so he may see her face. That beautiful face that makes his heart all aglow, now wrought with such emotion. It weighs on her so heavy, Loki can't help but be concerned. He longs to ease that burden.

Tracing his fingers along the side of her cheek and down her chin, Sigyn draws back, recoiling from his touch. To this, Loki chuckles.

"You've not grown shy on me, have you?" He smirks waggishly. Bringing his mouth to her pulse, his lips brush against the supple flesh of her neck. "You were anything but prudish as you had your way with me last night. Splashing about inside the fountains. Our bodies wet and glistening beneath the waxing moon..."

His teeth find their way to her earlobe, a spot which he knows to be her most favorite. But as he begins to nibble, instead of drawing out the desired effect, Sigyn pushes off him, much to his displeasure.

"Tis a bit late for playing hard to get, don't you agree?" He asks, finding himself growing bothered. "If you're concerned that Thor might interrupt us as he did before, you needn't worry. We've an agreement, he and I. We can speak more of this in the morning."

But that look on her face tells another story. Something entirely different completely. And it's then that it hits him. Or mayhap he already knew but just didn't want to believe it. Didn't want to see the truth. That _look_ in her eyes.

Thinking back to his trial, Loki remembers her there. Sigyn. With her wintery blue eyes filled with such pity. Such sadness for him. And how that had filled him with such hate.

At that one moment, how he had longed to make her suffer for her sympathy. To make her fear him like all others. And now? Now he's gotten exactly what he'd wanted way back then. Now, she looks at him just like everyone else. She looks at him with fear.

"But that's not what frightens you..."

She fears _him_.

"I do."

With great wide eyes, Sigyn stares at him. Glassy and bloodshot from the tears she had shed.

"Sigyn... Sunshine, if I could only explain..."

Loki tries to reach out, to bring her comfort but it only drives her further from him.

"STAY BACK!"

Like a wild animal having found itself cornered, Sigyn backs into the nightstand by the bed, tipping over a large vase of flowers and sending them crashing to the floor.

Loki takes not a step closer, but instead a step back, giving Sigyn more space. A chance to breathe. Tis obvious the distress he's causing just being so near her. A reaction he wasn't expecting. Not at all.

"My love-" Loki begins, only to be stopped in his place.

"My LOVE?" Sigyn spits with words like venom. "Enough with this charade, already. I KNOW what game you're playing at!"

He can hear the hatred in her tone. All that anger bubbling its way to the surface, through the fear and all the pain. Seizing control of her emotions.

"There's no game, Sigyn." Loki tries to remain calm, to keep a stiff upper lip despite the slight tremor in his voice. "I promise you that."

"A PROMISE!" She forces a laugh. "Well... You can take all those broken promises and STUFF it! A thousand promises from YOUR lips are equal to less than nothing in ANY book."

His eyes lower to the floor, locking on the fallen flowers amid broken glass. Loki's found he can no longer look her in the eye. Eyes which had once held so much love and such brightness for him, now turned to fear and hate.

"I... I'm sorry... I..."

"Nay... No, you're not." She seethes. "Don't even try to pretend. Tis not worth it."

This is not what he'd wanted. The happy reunion he had imagined. It wasn't supposed to go this way. Everything's spinning out of control. Out of his grasp.

It feels like the ground has opened up and is swallowing him whole. And despite all his clawing, he can't quite seek the surface. He's being buried alive. Sucked down to the darkness. Back where he belongs.

"I know not what you've planned for me, nor do I care." Sigyn shouts, her voice shaking with emotion. "But know that despite all your best efforts, you will never own me. My body and obedience may belong to you, but my spirit and mind will be forever beyond your reach. You may have tricked me into marriage, but I will NEVER love you."

Loki can feel his heart breaking. Whatever was left of it over the years. However twisted and black. Now turned to ash. Reduced to nothing as she tears it from his being and rips it to shreds.

And he deserves it. He knows he does. Even _he_ can't lie his way out of this one. Not this time. Not to himself.

"I've not PLANNED anything, my dear. There is no motive. To this I swear!" Loki pleads to deaf ears. Like the boy who cried wolf, his words come too little too late. "I LOVE you, Sigyn! I'd never meant to trick you into ANYTHING. You must believe me!"

"LOVE ME? How can you speak of love when you DECEIVED me! You BETRAYED MY TRUST!" Sigyn cries out. "I GAVE myself to you! And you... Oh Gods... How could I be so blind? YOU FUCKED ME WHILST WEARING ANOTHER MAN'S FACE!"

In her yelling, she throws something at him. A book. It hits him square in the chest before falling to the ground. Red in the face and breathless from shouting, Sigyn sways on her feet as if close to fainting again.

"I think I'm going to be sick..." She mumbles, clutching onto the nightstand for stability.

The room fills with an uneasy quiet as Sigyn rests for a moment, composing herself. Loki just stands there. Frozen. Afraid to move or even breathe. Afraid he'll fall apart completely should he be reminded that he's living. That he can feel this pain he's feeling. He would surely die.

"How could you... How could you be so cruel?" Sigyn whimpers softly. "To trick me into laying with you? Into TRUSTING you? Can you not see how disgusting that is? How perverse... You USED me. You LIED to me. And I was stupid enough to believe it. That Theoric actually existed. That someone could truly love me... I've never been so ashamed."

Head in her hands, Sigyn begins to weep. Her body slumps to the floor to sit amongst the broken vase and dead flowers. A beautiful tragedy in her crumbled wedding gown, drenched in her own tears.

Loki wants so bad to hold her, to be the one to dry her tears, but knows it would only do more harm than good. He's the reason why they're in this mess. It's all his fault and none other. There's no one else to blame but him.

He'd made her cry. Again. Seems like that's just about the only thing he's good for these days. Causing pain.

Unable to do anything other, Loki stoops to recover the book at his feet, the one she had thrown at him. Upon retrieving it, he instantly recognizes it as the same she'd had in her possession down in the garden. The one she'd been reading beneath the withered old apple tree as he confronted her under the guise of Theoric. Back when this all began. The lie that had snowballed out of his control. And while the book itself may be of little significance, just some old novel of sorts, it is not without its purpose. Tis not the tome that's important, not cover nor binding, but what's _inside_ that counts. Not _on_ its pages, but _within_.

With its pages all ruffled, Loki picks up the book. One such page slips out, but it doesn't appear to belong to the novel in question. For starters, the paper's much older. Too old, in fact. Frayed at the edges and yellowed with age. But well-loved. He can see quite clearly that she'd cared for it greatly, carrying it with her wherever she went. Keeping it close. Cherishing it, even. Until now.

Such a strange sentiment for a simple bookmark. But as Loki's quick to realize, nothing's quite that simple. Or ever what it seems.

No sooner does he lift the page in his hand does he remember what this paper truly is. And that it's a _promise_. His promise to Sigyn, to be precise. Her birthday present from so very long ago. He'd no idea she'd kept it, or even that she'd received it at all. After Odin had burnt Loki's original offering and sent him to his room, Thor was to deliver this to her in his stead, but Loki had always figured that he hadn't. Not that it mattered. Thor clearly had the better gift. And Loki? Well, a piece of scribbled on paper is hardly a gift at all. And yet after all this time...

Quietly, Loki recalls the words of his younger self. His eyes scanning over the delicate handwriting he knows to be his own. Remembering as if it were written only yesterday.

 _My dearest Sigyn,_  
 _On this, my sweet, I've come to ponder_  
 _But what could fill your heart with wonder_  
 _My love for you cannot be bought_  
 _Nor your attention to be caught_  
 _No baubles, trinkets, gems or gold_  
 _Could capture what my heart does hold_  
 _And that is that I love you true_  
 _So on this day I promise you_  
 _For as long as I shall live_  
 _My truest word is what I give_  
 _Never shall a lie I claim_  
 _To you, my sweet, my heart aflame_  
 _Forever yours,_  
 _Loki Odinson_

It's hard to imagine there ever was a time when he was so sickeningly adorable. And sweet. And kind. And so unbroken. Back before his world did shatter. Back before the fall. When life was simple. He was an Odinson. A prince of Asgard. And the world seemed so bright. Even in the valley of Thor's shadow. Still, there was hope. There was Sigyn. And now? Now he's broken her too. Just as he breaks everything he touches. It all turns to black.

He'd broken his promise to her. His word. And her heart.

Loki lets the tattered old sheet of paper slip softly to the floor. But another broken promise to be destroyed. Its ink becoming clouded, words blurred as it soaks in the spilt water from the shattered vase.

Thor was right. Perhaps the oaf is not as brainless as he seems. Because in all his irrefutable ignorance, he saw right through. He saw what Loki couldn't. Or more so _wouldn't_. What he was too proud to see.

Thor _knew_ the God of Mischief would be back. Simply because Loki has nowhere else to go. Because he doesn't _deserve_ to be free.

"I'll be going now." Loki says softly, nearly a whisper. He's not sure what else to say, really. "I'll just let myself out."

Reclaiming his helmet, Loki slowly backs towards the door. Watching as Sigyn weeps for her fate as he goes. His heart beating to the rhythm of a death march as he leaves her be.

"I'm so sorry..."

* * *

 _ **A/N: So many songs for Loki, I've decided it's time Sigyn gets her own to add to the playlist in my head! The Birthday Massacre's 'Cover My Eyes'**_


	32. Shock And Awe

**SHOCK AND AWE**

One hour.

One hour was all it took for the sweet taste of freedom to turn bitter with defeat. For Loki to turn back around and return to his cell. Head low like a dog with its tail between the legs. Ignoring the stares of disbelief as he marches himself past the Warriors Three who've been waiting for him in the dungeons below.

"I don't believe it..." Fandral gapes. "Tell me my eyes doth deceive me."

"Nay. I see it, too." Sif replies just as equally amazed.

"But how did you know?" Volstagg turns to Thor for answers.

But before Thor has a chance to answer, the Dashing is quick to offer his two cents.

"His blushing bride rejected him." Fandral smirks as he twists at his beard.

"Smart lass." The Voluminous nods.

"Could you imagine the horror in finding out you've married HIM?" Sif asks among her colleagues. "Poor thing..."

Loki pays no mind to their petty words as he reclaims his place inside his cell. His back to the wall as he takes a seat on the floor. Staring out into space. His eyes focused on absolutely nothing at all. Just blank. Completely emotionless. Numb.

He can hear the forcefield regenerate. The boundary between he and Thor. Prisoner and captor. But he doesn't care. It doesn't matter. Nothing does.

There's no escape, nor would he try. He's lost the will to. For what's the point of escape when there's no escaping _yourself_.

The greatest prison is that of the mind and his is infinitely worse than any punishment they could deliver. That look in Sigyn's eyes is far more painful than any torture they could possibly imagine. And he will relive it in his thoughts from here unto the rest of eternity, for as long as he shall live. Burned into the backs of his eyelids to witness again and again. The very moment his world ended is the moment he betrayed her. The moment she stopped loving him.

From the opposite side of the barrier, Thor stands guard over his brother as his friends continue on with their conversation. He doesn't add anything to the pot, but stands there in silence. Stoic with his arms crossed at the chest. A frown on his stern face as he watches Loki sulking.

"The Silver Tongue is awfully quiet. Tis not like him." Volstagg shudders. "Fills my belly with an uneasy feeling. I'm not sure I like it."

"What you're feeling is likely indigestion." Fandral quips.

"I rather like the lack of speaking." Sif adds. "His silence suits me fine."

No longer are there snide remarks or sideways glances. No games to play or cheeky grins. No lies nor tricks. No snark nor spark. No _nothing_. Inside his cell, Loki sits a hallowed man. What once was merely broken, now is completely lost with no hope or light to guide him. Just an endless void of cold, black emptiness. He feels nothing inside.

"Mayhap we should return to our previous discussion." Hogan directs the conversation onto a more constructive path. "Finding Odin."

Thor nods slowly, finally breaking his contemplative watch over his brother.

"Aye. We should prepare to leave at first light." Thor agrees. "The sooner we find my father and return him to the throne-"

Out of the corner of his eye, Thor catches sight of something he really wished he hadn't, making him trail off.

The oncoming storm.

Sigyn.

"Odin's stones..."

With hands balled into fists, the bride in white marches her way through the dungeon corridor right towards them.

Hoping to disarm the situation before it escalates into a full-blown war, Thor tries to stop Sigyn before ever reaching the cell. Before Loki spots her and Thor can keep the peace no longer. Because if it comes to that, if they're allowed to confront one another, then it won't be peace that Thor will be concerning himself with, but picking up the pieces. Or what's left of what was once his brother.

"Sigyn, please, this is no place for you." The Odinson begs as he approaches.

Though Thor keeps his voice low as to not attract any attention, it doesn't count for much.

Like a Doberman, Loki catches her scent the moment she steps foot here. Amidst the rot of decay and Asgardian waste. The fetid blood and stench of fear and death. He can smell her from a room away. Galaxies, even. Loki can feel her heart beating through his chest as if it were his own. If he had a heart, that is. Loki could sense her presence before she even opened her mouth to speak

"Step aside, Thor." Sigyn demands strongly. Her voice loud and sure. "I've not finished with my husband yet."

His eyes are first to move, followed by his body as Loki rises to his feet to see what all the commotion is for. Just the sound of her voice makes the Trickster edge slowly toward the barrier to gain a better look.

Though his greatest fears came true and she had left him jilted, spurned of all affection, Loki cannot help himself when it comes to her. Nor can he help his strong attraction. Tis like asking the moon not to chase the sun across the sky. Or the Trickster not to be curious as to why she would seek him here. Or the ire in his gut as Thor places his hands on Sigyn's shoulders comfortingly.

"You should be in your room. Resting." Thor says calm and sympathetic. "You've had a trying day. Tis no place for you here. You needn't be part of this."

"But I AM part of this. I became part of this the second HE MADE me part of this." She answers strongly. "I cannot turn my back. Nor will I. Resting is for the weak and I've had enough of resting. As have I had enough of crying. I'm SICK of crying. I feel as if my whole life is filled with sorrow. And it all comes back to HIM."

Sigyn glares at his cage. From his vantage, Loki can just make out her eyes from yards away. And see quite clear how all that sadness has turned to rage.

"In all my resting I've decided." Sigyn speaks so clear. "I'm going to kill him."

She aims to stroll on right past Thor, but he stops her with his mighty arms.

"Nay, nay, nay, nay, nay..." He bellows, holding her in place. "Tis your anger talking. You've not thought this through."

"Oh, but I have." Sigyn argues. "I had a good cry. Gave it some time to mull it over and I've come to a decision. I WILL kill Loki. Now. Step. Aside."

Despite her smaller size, the bride pushes right past. Though Thor is quick to cut her off again.

"You cannot kill him." He argues right back.

"And why not?" Sigyn growls.

"Yeah. Why not?" Sif blurts.

Hel hath no fury than a woman scorned.

Thor rolls his eyes. The last thing he needs is Sif butting in.

"Because we NEED him." Thor reminds. "He's the only one who knows what's become of Odin and how to find him."

"Then simply BEAT it out of him." Sigyn returns plainly.

"SEE? I said the same thing!" Sif adds sassily. "Did I not say the same thing?"

"You're not helping!" Thor hisses for Sif to keep quiet.

As Thor is busy handling his friend, Sigyn takes the opportunity to scoot right past him and straight on to Loki's cage.

"Here." She marches on with a scowl. "I will show you how it's done."

With a defeated growl in the back of his throat, Thor resumes his effort to keep Sigyn from reaching Loki, but it's too late. Despite the sprint in his step, tis futile. Come Hel or high water, she _will_ get what she has come here for. And that is vengeance.

"Open the cell." Sigyn orders, glaring at Thor. Loki's keeper.

"Now, Sigyn. There shall be no violence here this day." Thor holds out hope that he can still keep the peace. "No one's beating anyone."

He turns to Sif.

"NO ONE." He repeats himself, pointing right at her. "The same goes for you."

Turning back towards Sigyn, he places a friendly hand on her shoulder once again. As if this time he can get through to her.

"You know not what you mean, lillesøs. This isn't you speaking, but the hurt and pain." Thor consoles. "You've gone through a great ordeal and you want retribution. I understand that-"

"You understand nothing." Sigyn growls, smacking his hand off her. "You've NO idea the ordeal he's put me through!"

"You're right, I don't." Thor says calmly, hands raised to chest level in surrender. "But if you'll only sit for a moment. Take a deep breath and think things through."

"I needn't more time. I've MADE my decision. And I know EXACTLY what I speak of. My thoughts have never been more clearer." She seethes, eyes narrowed on Thor as if he were her target. "So step aside and let me through to do what you have not the stomach to. I will not ask again. Now OPEN the cell."

There's a part of Loki that just wishes Thor would step aside and let her at him to do what she feels she must. To exact her revenge that she so justly deserves. That _he_ deserves. But then there's the curiosity in him. However terribly he's given up, Loki still has to wonder. _Why?_ Why Thor still feels the need to stand up for him? After all the horrors he's committed. After all this time. All the wrongs and all the lies. Why big brother still tries so hard to save him?

And not only that.

Perhaps the greater question would be, where have all the guards gone? And why is the dungeon so suddenly quiet?

Fandral saunters over as if to break the tension between that of Sigyn and Thor.

"Now, now, pretty flower. No need to be so wound tight." The ever so Dashing croons.

With feather-soft fingertips, Fandral strokes up and down the length of Sigyn's arm gently, causing her to instantly stop her little tête-à-tête with Thor.

And though it means for little how or where he'd grazed her, just the fact alone that he'd _touched_ her, however small or innocent is enough to get Loki's blood burning. The Jotun-born can feel a growl growing in the back of his throat. Primal and frigid cold, it rattles through his chest.

As if the Dashing could ever be taken as innocent.

"I think what my friend means to say is that such bloodlust is not suited for one as fair and beauteous as yourself." He puts on the charm. "But if you would be so kind and patient as to wait until our quest is over, I promise on my honor that I shall mend your broken heart and find that this here felon gets the justice you so very much deserve."

With that of disgust and a hint of shock, Sigyn stares at the bold fellow who dares touch her. His hand still on her person, cupping her elbow so sweet yet dominantly.

"Is he serious?" She asks Thor, who literally has his palm to his face.

"As I live and breathe." An oblivious Fandral boasts, bowing his head chivalrously. "You have my word. I will see to his punishment myself."

The bitter bride is about to break the Dashing's fingers when suddenly an inmate appears. And out of his cell.

"Why have the guards abandoned their posts?" Volstagg wonders. This, too, does not sit well in his stomach.

At nearly eight feet tall, the creature must weigh at the very least a hefty ton, seeing as the thing just about covers the entire entrance to the dungeon, blocking their escape. Thor can only assume this behemoth has come from the dungeon next over. The cellblock where they keep the more dangerous inmates. The ones about to face the gallows. Not the long-term inmates or VIPs much like his brother, nor the short-term prisoners of war who have yet to stand trial before the King. These are the deranged and damaged. Those too sick to ever be set free. The death row.

The Warriors all take up arms, Thor and the Lady Sif included.

Fandral heroically throws Sigyn behind him as if to shield her with his manly machismo.

"Fear not, m'lady." The bearded Casanova booms most suavely. "I'll protect thee from this brute!"

The thing is like a great big bull. More animal than man as he readies for the charge.

"Return to your cell immediately and no harm shall come of you." Thor addresses the beastly escapee.

But such a demand is only met with a sneer from the creature dressed in prison rags. That and a terrifying roar of a laugh.

"You make no orders, little princeling. I follow only Queen. Lovely, lovely Queen..." The thing bellows in his thick, gruff voice. "What Queen asks, I obey."

As all the others stand their ground, waiting for the fight to meet them, only Loki knows for certain the identity of their attacker. Not the creature flexing his muscles before them, but the _true_ mastermind. The one behind the scenes. The lovely, lovely Queen as so it were. Amora.

Loki can't know for certain what that witch is up to, but whatever it is, it cannot be good. Mayhap she'd sent this brute to tie up her loose ends with Loki. To shut the Trickster up for good. Or worse. His eyes shoot to Sigyn. Behind Fandral but still in the direct path of that monster. Still so very much in danger. If either Amora or Lorelei wanted to hurt Loki. Really, _really_ hurt Loki. And of course they _do_. Then they have the means to do so. They know exactly where to strike. And just when he's at his lowest. When he's at his most defenseless. From behind the barrier, he's merely a spectator in all this. Protected and safe in his cell as Sigyn stands at the front line of this battlefield he'd had a hand in making.

"And what exactly does your queen order of you?" Thor begs the question.

The creature's grin widens.

"Kill Loki." It's growl turns to thunder, echoing throughout the cellblock. "KILL THEM ALL!"

A murderous howl rises from the creature's belly. Bloodlust fills his yellow eyes. Thor readies his hammer. And all Hel breaks loose.

Like a giant boulder, it barrels down the corridor, starting off slow but gaining speed.

The other inmates housed within the joining cells all shout and holler. Calling for blood. Eager for a show. To see the carnage that is sure to come.

The scene stirs up memories for Loki. Old wounds reminiscent of his last stint imprisoned here. That terrible day his mother was taken from him. Slaughtered as he sat locked within his cell.

The grief that he had felt back then. The _guilt_. Loki was helpless then to stop it. As helpless as he was at fault for her demise. Just as he is now. Now it's Sigyn's turn to fall the victim to that which he'd created. And there's nothing he can do to stop it.

"GET SIGYN OUT OF HERE!" Loki shouts in a panic. "GET HER OUT!"

He bangs his hands against the forcefield to his cell, trying to gain Thor's attention in the frenzy.

"He thinks to ram us!" Vostagg remarks.

"Not if I skewer him first!" Sif does shout.

"Hold your position!" Thor cries above the commotion.

There's so much noise, the Odinson can't think straight. As can he not use his hammer in these cramped quarters. Not to it's full potential, at least. Which is verily most needed at this, their darkest hour. Should he let Mjolnir fly and it gets knocked off track, hitting one of these sub-level walls, the very palace could fall atop them. The throne room raining down around their ears.

"Fret not, my flower." Fandral turns his head towards Sigyn at his back. "Leave it to me. I've got thi-"

Before the Dashing can finish his sentence, the Maiden punches him square in the face.

Blood flies and heads turn. Fandral clutches at his gushing nose, leaving him wide open for another barrage. This time, a fist to the gut.

Doubled over in agony, the Dashing drops his foil. A prize which Sigyn is more than happy to claim.

Taking the small sword into her hand, the bride steps past the Warriors and towards the beast nearly upon them. Fearless as she enters the eye of the storm.

The rest happens so fast.

Sigyn jams the slender point right between the creature's ribs with such force, tis a wonder the frail weapon doesn't snap. The thing howls and swats for her with his big, powerful arms. Something she avoids with ease. Like a dance as she effortlessly dodges his movements. Instead using them to her advantage as she grabs hold of his extended arm and uses his momentum and weight against him.

Like an overgrown pincushion, Sigyn leaves the sword stuck inside as she twists at the monstrosity's arm, flipping his body into a barrel roll as if he weighed next to nothing. Then, much like a trick rider climbing atop a horse already in motion, a simple swing of her own body and she lands atop his back whilst still midair. A spray of crimson paints the air as she plucks the blade out from its chest. Just before the thing comes down hard upon its chest. Skidding across the dungeon floor with her the victor.

The act plays out in a matter of seconds. So quick and seamless that should one have blinked, they'd have missed it. Then, before the downed man-beast has a chance to react, Sigyn brings the blade back down. This time, connecting with his back. With great precision and speed, she thrusts the sword thusly, severing its spine. Immobilizing the threat as Thor and his entourage look on in shock and awe.

Loki steps away from the barrier. There's a part of him relieved that she's safe and well. But mostly he's just as horrified as the rest of them. Watching with wide eyes as she begins to interrogate her fallen, and knowing that she means to do the same to _him_. As he looks out at Sigyn, all he can see is her mother. Cold and vicious. Terrifying.

Sweet little Sigyn. So good and kind and trusting.

And he brought her to... _this_.

"Who set you free?" Sigyn hisses in the downed prisoner's ear. "Who sent you to kill us?"

Grabbing hold of his long braided hair, Sigyn wraps it round the thing's throat and pulls upward, causing him to choke and sputter as she strangles him.

"That's enough." Thor steps forward.

Her foot at the base of his skull for leverage, she means to separate his head from his shoulders.

"WHO SENT YOU?" She cries.

Rolled into the back of its head, the thing's eyes bulge from their sockets. His lips turn sickly blue as he struggles to breathe.

"I SAID THAT'S ENOUGH!"

Finally, Thor gets through. Not completely, but just enough to make her stop what she is doing. Or at least what she was about to.

With a sneer on her lips, Sigyn glares up at Thor. She has this look about her. This look in her eyes. So absolutely feral, Loki hardly recognizes her at all. Like a starved and wild animal having been kept from its kill. She looks like she's about to tear Thor's bloody throat out.

And yet, she retracts.

Loosening her stranglehold, the inmate gasps. Rattling out a string of coughs as he attempts to gulp in air.

"My Queen... my Queen will see you pay." The prisoner tries to speak through the blood pooling in his lungs.

"And who is this queen you speak of?" Thor enters the fold.

The creature laughs. His lips wet with its own blood.

"You'll see... soon... enough..."

Seeing as he's a total loss in the realm of information, Sigyn releases her prisoner of his noose and retrieves the small sword from his back. Leaving her fallen to laugh and mutter to himself quietly as she rejoins the group. All of which are still so very much astounded as to what the Hel just happened.

"How did you learn to fight like that?" The seldom spoken Grim asks.

"Her father was a blacksmith. THE blacksmith to the royal army." Thor answers for her with a small smirk on his lips. "You don't truly believe she played with dolls."

Wiping the gore off the blade and onto her now soiled wedding gown, Sigyn returns the borrowed foil back to Fandral. Pinching his nose, he's succeeded in stopping the bleeding.

"Touch me again and you'll lose more than your sword." Sigyn warns as she hands over the blade. "OR your pride."

Without another word, she turns on her heels to proceed back towards Thor. Leaving poor Fandral in a state of stupor.

"I love you..." Is about all he can manage through the stars in his eyes. Never has he ever met a woman like her.

Nor has Sif.

"Yeah." The Lady murmurs, finding herself equally awestruck. "Me too."

Sigyn approaches Thor. Every fiber of her being screams zero tolerance. Like she's just itching to continue the fight. Her need for violence has yet to be satisfied.

"Do you have any insight on this matter?" She asks him seriously. "I can understand HIM, but who would want us dead?"

With a comically heavy sigh, Thor turns to his imprisoned brother.

"Who've you managed to piss off this time, Loki?" He asks sarcastically, massaging at the headache building between his eyes.

"Would you care for that list in alphabetical order?" The Trickster replies snarkishly, acting a bit more like his usual self.

But that's all it is, really. An act. A show to gain her audience. But Sigyn won't even acknowledge his existence. Pretending as if he's not even in the same room as she.

"And you say you have need of his services to find Odin?" Sigyn won't even say his name.

"Aye." Thor confirms.

"Then I'm going with you." She decides on the spot.

But this does not agree with Thor in the least.

"Oh no." He shakes his head and waves his hands. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no!"

He simply will not hear of it, but Sigyn isn't one to come off it so easily.

"Why?" She argues. "You needn't worry about me slowing you down. As you can see, I'm fully capable of pulling my own weight. I can handle myself just fine. If anything, I'd be an asset to your team."

"I know. Trust me, I know." The Odinson argues right back. "You're particular skill set would prove more than useful in this situation."

"But?"

"But I cannot guarantee your safety on this endeavor." Thor adds seriously. "Should anything happen to you..."

"That would be on me, not you."

"And yet it's not that simple and you know it, Sigyn." He says almost cryptically. His eyes set square on hers. "The stakes are far too high. I cannot allow you to take such a gamble."

Loki watches the exchange from his cell with both curiosity and, of course, jealousy. Suspicious over the way Thor hovers over Sigyn. The way he's so protective of her when it's Loki's job to do so. He's her _husband_. Tis his mission to keep her safe. But what is safe, exactly? To keep her nearest him at all times? Or as far away from him as possible? Especially if those sorceress sisters have a hit out on him. And possibly them all.

Which has the Liesmith worried.

Tis unlikely those twisted sisters had only sent but one assassin to do their dirty work. Nay. Something doesn't feel right. Loki can practically sense it. Something more behind the scenes. While they all stand around and squabble, there's mischief at work here.

"I'll have the guards return this prisoner to his cell." Thor continues. He's made up his mind and that's final. "And as for you, I'll expect you to retire to your quarters, as well. REST. _Please.._. Leave us to our mission and I promise to return Loki so that he may face his punishment. But I'll need you to stay here, Sigyn. Within the palace walls where it is safest."

"You may wish to rethink that."

Thor follows Volstagg's gaze to the group of guards now standing at the dungeon exit. Behind them, even more escaped prisoners.

"I don't understand." Sif ruffles her brow. "Are they working together?"

One of the guards pulls at a lever, shutting down all the forcefields to the cells in this block. Setting free all of the inmates to this dungeon. Including Loki.

"Why settle for one lonely king." The Trickster recalls the Seductress' words as the barrier fades. "When you can have all the king's _army_ , instead."

Tis something that Lorelei had told him, but he just didn't listen. He didn't care. The witch was always spouting such trivial nonsense. Only now does he realize it was anything but.

Loki had taken her for a fool with no ambition. Now he sees just who exactly that fool _really_ is. And that it's _him_.

She's been playing him all this time. Her _and_ her sister. And just like that little tramp's legs, their ambition is wide. They've likely taken over the entire kingdom by now. Planning their incursion as he dared plan a wedding. While his head was filled with thoughts of love, floating high atop the clouds, they sought to steal the throne right out from under him. The throne that _he_ had stolen, now is theirs. And their first order of business? Out with the old and in with the new. The snakes have seized control of the nest. And under his watch, no less.

He should have wrung that bitch's neck when he had the chance.

"What?" Thor asks, turning towards a newly freed Loki to repeat himself.

"They're bewitched." The Trickster God replies in a hurry.

"Well that's just great." The God of Thunder groans. "I'm liking your new friends less and less."

There's no use going into detail. Not now when the entire dungeon is closing in around them. Each and every one of them, a red-blooded male under that succubus' control. All calling for his head. _All_ their heads. And all in the name of their new Queen mother.

"We need to get out of here." Hogun calls to Thor.

The Odinson stares down at Mjolnir. Then back at the mob.

There's no use worrying about the ceiling collapsing atop them or the walls caving in when they're all going to die anyway. And soon. Gruesome and bloody if he doesn't do something about it. RIGHT NOW!

His fingers curl around his hammer tight.

"What the Hel..."

He lets it fly.


	33. For Asgard

**FOR ASGARD**

The mortals have this analogy. That the boom of thunder in the midst of the storm is actually that of God bowling.

Tis cute, really.

Though at the moment the analogy lends itself more to the side of realism than fantasy.

Still... Cute.

But right now tis anything but endearing. Right now, tis bloody and brutal.

Thor lets his hammer fly and he wills his aim be true, striking down all who stand in their path. Knocking them over like the insignificant little pins that they are, both guards and inmates alike. But the more he bowls over, the more seem to come. Filling in the ranks of their fallen faster than he can bring them to their knees. It seems as if the whole castle is against them. And that's because they are.

As the room begins to fill, Loki can't help but recall how much this feels like _last_ time. The same song though the notes have all since changed. Tis a darker melody, now. A tune chaotic with the crescendo building to their end.

After the Kurse had taken his mother from him, it felt as if Loki had nothing left to lose. But now? Now there's far too much.

One bold inmate grabs Sigyn from behind, catching the group off their guard.

"This one smells nice." The thing grins as he wraps his arms around her waist. "I call first round!"

Sigyn squirms as he begins to drag her backwards towards his cell.

Loki's head snaps around. His eyes filled with a terror he has never known. He attempts to follow, but the room is filling in far too fast. The inmates are closing in all around them, making the short distance between he and her feel like lightyears apart. A gap that's only growing by each agonizing second.

The rest of their party isn't fairing any better, either. They've each got their collective hands full playing crowd control, trying to keep the dirty masses at bay while Thor does his best to keep the greater horrors out.

Which leaves only Loki to the rescue. Not an easy task when you've no weapon or means to slice your way through this unruly jungle of alien flesh. Of grabbing hands and flying fists at every glance. The makeshift shank that finds its mark in Loki's side.

A cry of pain escapes him as he instinctively rips the sharpened bit of scrap metal from his abdomen, jamming it into the throat of the closest threat nearby. There's so many escaped prisoners around him, it's hard to know if _this_ one, in particular, was indeed the one who'd stabbed him. All he knows for certain is that he's off his game. He needs to pay closer attention to his surroundings. An impossible task when Sigyn's involved. When she's in imminent danger. When his mind is on full frantic and his thoughts run red with images of all the vulgar and repulsive things that creature can and will do to her.

"This isn't working!" Sif cries above the mob.

"We need a hole!" Fandral follows as he delivers a swift kick to an approaching inmate's gut.

And still Loki battles the sea. Each step a labor as he trudges his way through the crowd. Doing his best to avoid every blow as they come, but they attack from every angle. Every direction. He can't even see her anymore. It all seems so lost. So hopeless. And just when he doesn't think it could possibly get any worse, something grabs him by the ankle.

Like a sack of apples, Loki quickly meets the floor. That and the felled creature that Sigyn had immobilized earlier. Even as it's being trampled, the broken thing still follows orders. With the last bits of life left in him, how sickly it grins while holding tight to Loki's leg.

This can't be the end, the Mischief God thinks. Not like this. There's no way he'd survived for as long as he has. The Frost Giants. His fall. The depths of blackest space. Midgard. Thor and those dullard Avengers. Rock Trolls. Hel... Even a Valkyrie. Just to be taken down by some cunt of a she-witch's minion!

With his free foot, Loki slams his boot into the ugly thing's face. Over and over again, kicking at that bloody grin. But still it holds on tight, refusing to let him go. Even as its nose caves in and cheek collapses under the force of Loki's heel, it refuses to betray his mystic mistress' command. Not until the sharp end of a blade slices clear across its neck, separating the thing's head clean from his shoulders.

Loki quickly scuttles back, afraid for a moment that whatever had felled the great beast once and for all would soon turn its blade on him. But then a hand reaches down from out of the darkness. A lifeline. Sigyn. Loki hesitantly grabs hold and she pulls him back up to the surface.

"Thank... you?"

Amidst the endless fighting, Loki stands there dumbstruck. Staring at her. Giddy as a child, for as silly as it sounds, because she'd _saved_ him. He'd sought to rescue her and here she is saving his life. The life she'd fought so justly to end but mere moments earlier.

"So... Does that mean we're..."

With an aggravated huff and roll of the eye, Sigyn turns to return to the fighting.

"Right. Okay. Later, then." Loki claps his hands together. "Back to fighting, shall we?"

Their numbers are great. As they should be. Tis the whole bloody Aesir army against them. The greatest in all the nine realms. Filing into the narrow dungeon corridor like ants. A swarm with no end in sight.

But still, they keep fighting. Against all of Asgard. _For_ Asgard.

"Remember! Wound but do NOT kill!" Thor shouts to his fellow compatriots. "Our Asgardian brethren are bewitched. They know not what they do. You should only strike for blood if your life depends on it!"

One such brother in arms goes for Sif, his hands at her neck. She, in turn, tosses the soldier up and over her shoulder.

"I don't think they share your sentiment!" She calls back.

Another thrusts his sword at Fandral, only for the Dashing to parry his attack and punch him square in the face.

"Aye!" He cries. "Why not try telling that to THEM, yeah?"

It's no use. The prisoners are no longer their main concern. The guards have spilt their way inside, leaving their only exit completely unusable. No matter how many times Thor swings with his hammer, they just keep coming in waves.

"Anytime now would be nice!" Loki hollers as he fights off an attacker whilst holding his injured side.

So what do you do when you've found yourself with no means of escape?

When one door closes...

You make another one.

And bloody well quick.

"Here goes nothing."

Round and round, Thor swings his hammer. Faster and faster in a circle about its strap, until finally, Thor lets it fly in the complete opposite direction. Away from the stairway and out towards the other end of the dungeon. Knocking down countless bodies in its path before connecting with the far off wall. Plowing through thick stone and endless dirt, until finally, daylight.

"Follow me!" The Mighty Thor commands, and his Warriors and friends are more than happy to obey. Fighting their way through both prisoners and guards to reach the hole that he's created.

The impact couldn't have been more perfect if he'd tried. The wall was hardly load-bearing. And the size of the crater, perfect for any and all of them to fit through. Well, almost perfect. Of course, it's going to be quite a squeeze for Volstagg. But it's amazing the lengths one can accomplish when being chased by a mind-controlled mob with sharp pointy things coming right at you.

Except there's only one thing. The funny thing about holes, actually. It has nothing to do with their size or depth or even structure. But what's on the other side, that counts. And at the end of this hole, in particular, the group is faced with _nothing_. Nothing but sky as their escape empties out into the side of a high-sided cliff overlooking the sea. And it's a long way down. Certainly a near fatal way down. If they're that lucky.

"Well. We're doomed." Fandral jokes. A small solace to their bleak situation.

Loki stares out the hole to the water below. Rubble from the blast falling way to the sea.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" Thor calls over to his brother as he tends to keeping the rabble at bay.

The Trickster turns around. He hasn't the foggiest what that overgrown oaf could possibly be implying.

"Me?" Loki asks, blankly.

"Aye!" Thor roars, swinging his mallet. "You're always boasting on about your magic..."

"Oh right. I'll just go ahead and MAGIC us up a bridge. Or better yet, MAGICALLY fly us all to safety." The Liar God cracks with sarcasm. "If only I'd remembered to wear my wonderful pair of Seven-League boots of which I'd liberated from the Ljósálfar of Alfheim-"

"LOKI!"

"All I'm saying is I deal in WORDS! Whispers! Lies and deception! ILLUSIONS!" Loki cries back. "But THIS? What do you expect of me? To pull a ladder out of my arse?"

"Well you best think of something!"

Truth be told, he _could_ save himself. And more than likely the old Loki most certainly would have. Outside his cell, he's free to do any number of things. Short-range teleportation. Longer-range if he had a reflective surface in which to scry. Mayhap a bit of levitation. But such things require calm and concentration. Two things in very short supply at the moment.

And then there's Sigyn.

Such transport would only allow _him_ to escape safely. Which means he'd have to leave her behind with the rest of them to meet their fate.

Sure, Thor could fly himself and mayhap one other to safety with the use of Mjolnir, but Loki knows as well as his brother, the selfless lug would never even consider it. He'd die before ever betraying his friends. As will Loki before betraying her. Again, that is.

"Any time now would be nice!" Thor calls to his brother.

But he won't let it come to that. He can't. They're all depending on him. _She's_ depending on him.

While he's standing there like an imbecile with his thumb up his arse, _they're_ doing all the real work. Holding the front line, defending his position, in the hopes that he can somehow _save_ them. Quite the funny turn of events, really. He'd laugh had he a moment's peace to spare, but he hasn't. Their lives are in his hands.

Loki rakes his hands across his scalp.

"Think, think, think, think, think..."

Balls his hands into fists in his hair.

"Think..."

And that's when it hits him.

His hands... Their lives are in _his hands_. Literally.

If it worked in defeating Sigyn's mother, then it sure as Hel better work now. After all, what've they got to lose? Besides their lives, of course.

What he'd thought would be so foreign, comes so naturally to him. Arms outstretched, Loki wills the water beneath them to freeze itself solid. Higher and higher, the ice creaks and groans as it rises to greet them. His fingertips a frigid blue, slowly spreading up the length of his skin beneath his clothes as he taps into the frost and cold within. Giving himself over to the Jotun magic swirling in his veins.

That is until he remembers his surroundings. From the corner of his blood-red eyes, Loki catches Sigyn staring. The girl on the battlefield, stopped in her sparring. With those clear blue orbs of perfection, she's now turned her attention on him.

Of course she'd already known. Loki has no doubts in that. Everyone knows not who but _what_ he is. A Frost Giant. A monster. But that look. That split second where seeing is believing. That hint of shock in her eyes makes Loki immediately return to that of his usual pallor.

And as for his work? Tis rather good, in fact, if he does say so himself.

However craggily and jagged, the series of icebergs he'd created is a fair enough escape, as it is. A tad rough, being this is his first go and all, but it'll do quite nice considering the alternative is death. Now all that's left to do is to jump.

Seeing as it's time to leave, Thor gives one last mighty swing of his hammer, pushing back the line one final time before making his retreat. The same goes for the rest of their company, each making the leap to the icy waters below.

The first to venture out is Volstagg. Though Fandral's undeniable chivalry would have allowed for either of the women to make the leap before that of the rotund fellow, there's still the unspoken question to whether the Voluminous would even fit through the hole. Let alone, sink Loki's creation with his valorous girth.

"Happy landings, my friend!" Fandral smiles with a pat to the back as Hogun gives the Voluminous a mighty push.

It's not that no one _trusts_ Loki's means of escape. Well... Almost no one.

Behind Volstagg, Sif is sure to give the Trickster one final icy glare before making the leap, herself.

It's just that they've no other means of escape. This is their only way out. Trusting Loki is all they've got left. Something Sif is not at all comfortable with, but given the circumstance, she can dwell on that later. As can they all. Right now, tis best to get the Hel out of here.

After Sif, both Fandral and Hogun take the plunge. Then Loki. Leaving only Thor and Sigyn left up top as the others wait for them below.

"You're up." Thor instructs Sigyn she's next to seek safety.

But the Lady shakes her head.

"I'm not leaving." She refuses. "Not yet."

"Sigyn, I've no time to argue-"

"Nor have I." She cuts him off. Her voice strong and clear. "There's something I must do, first. I cannot leave just yet."

The next wave approaches. The mindless fiends climbing over the crippled bodies of their fellow soldiers. Coming for their heads.

Sigyn readies her sword.

"They'll not stop until they've gotten what they've come for." She prepares herself for the barrage. "GO! I'll hold them off."

"Not without you."

Thor grabs hold of her arm strongly, but knows it's no use. Her mind is set. As are her eyes on that of the approaching attack.

"Stay not too long." Thor retracts his hand slowly. "Promise you'll be just behind. We rendezvous at dusk. You know where."

She pays no mind to him, her attention to the battle as he leans forward to kiss the top of her head.

"Lillesøs."

Tis the last thing he says before making his escape to the waters beneath.

With a hard thud, Thor's body connects with a tall spire of frigid ice. He wraps his arms around the jagged stalk, sliding himself down to the ragged iceberg and the rest of his party waiting below.

"What took you so long?" Sif shivers impatiently.

"Where's Sigyn?" Loki asks, staring up at the mouth of the hole in the cliff. He then turns his sights back towards his so-called brother.

"She'll meet with us later." Thor sets his features in a scowl.

"What do you mean by that?" Fandral asks.

But Thor doesn't answer. He simply lifts up his hammer and begins setting to work with the task of breaking apart Loki's iceberg to keep any and all from following.

"What do you MEAN she'll meet with us later?" Loki asks again, this time more frantic. Desperate. "WHERE IS SIGYN?"

A body falls from the cliffside. A soldier. Headfirst to his death.

"We must leave now." Is all that Thor replies.

He begins to move forward across the ice, but Loki stops him in his place. The Liesmith is ready to fight him if he must. He's not leaving here without her. He won't. But Thor's ready for that, too. Before Loki can even raise a fist to him, Thor smacks him hard across the face with his hammer, rendering the Dark Prince out cold in an instant.

"Anyone else?"

The Warriors say nothing. Neither does Sif. None dare say a word as Thor hoists Loki's unconscious body up and over his shoulder.

"Then let us away from here."

And away they begin their journey. Across the frigid bridge of ice, Thor carries his brother away from their home. As does he carry with him in his heart and in his blood the greatest hope for a very happy reunion. Though he dare not look back, his thoughts are with her. As are they all. And so they press forward. For Sigyn. For Odin. For Asgard.

* * *

 ** _"Seven-League boots which I'd liberated from the Ljósálfar of Alfheim..."_**

 ** _A/N: Great for running up glass, btw! Copied this little gem from the pages of Loki - Agent Of Asgard #1. Such a fun read!_**


	34. Homecoming

**HOMECOMING**

Loki wakes with a groan. His face hurts. The whole right side, from the top of his cheekbone down to his chin. This dull and throbbing pain that won't be leaving any time soon. Nicely paired with a delightful ringing in his ear that's due to slowly drive him mad. Gods... Even his _teeth_ hurt. Though as he runs his tongue along the surface, he supposes he should be grateful he still even has all his teeth after that sucker-punch Thor had dealt him.

Which reminds him...

Getting up from the spot which he'd been propped passed out and hunched over on the floor, Loki instantly seeks out Thor to deliver a much grateful thanks for saving his life. In the form of a fist.

"YOU SONOVABITCH!"

Leaning against the wall by the hearth of the little cottage they've found themselves in, Thor leaves himself wide open for Loki's attack. A punch right to the face. Which he takes. So well, in fact, that Loki offers him another. A left hook to the jaw which nearly breaks the Trickster's hand, but it's worth it. Not for the Odinson having hit him with his hammer. Which, mind you, _sucked_. But if just to watch Thor bleed. To make him feel the pain he feels in losing Sigyn. In losing the only thing that Loki had loved in this world.

"You left her! You left her to die, you bastard!"

Blood leaking from his lip, Thor receives Loki's fist with zero complaint. He doesn't even try to shield himself. Just takes the hits as they come because he knows he deserves it. Because he knows he had failed not only her, but himself, his friends, and all of Asgard, as well. Everyone.

"Sigyn TOLD me to leave her." Thor spits a mouthful of blood out on the floor. "What would you have had me do differently, brother?"

"Something. ANYTHING! Drag her kicking and screaming, for all you like! Anything would have been better than you leaving her to die!" Loki shouts in rage. "You hit me with a bloody hammer, for Gods sake! Is your honor so great you'd sooner see your own friend dead than to strike a woman down as you did me? Are you really that cold, BROTHER? Have you no heart, you unworthy waste of Aesir flesh?"

The Odinson turns his gaze, averting his eyes from that of Loki as his brother grabs him by the cape and pins him to the wall. He can't bear to look him in the face. Because the Liesmith is _right_. Never has he felt so ashamed.

"Thor. The GOOD son. The chosen heir. The golden God. He who is WORTHY." Loki seethes with spite.

Sigyn had told him to leave her behind and in truth it was the most tactical approach. It was the best move. But it doesn't make it right.

She'd allowed them the opportunity to escape safe and unfollowed. The opportunity to save all of Asgard. To save the King. But at what cost? Is the price truly worth it if he can't even save one friend? If he'd allowed her to perish? Loki's right. Thor may as well have sentenced her to die, himself.

Hogun rises from his seat to assist, but Thor motions with his hand for the Grim to leave them. This is between he and his brother.

"You all speak of me like I'm some vile beast. Like my hands are so unclean. When it is YOU, dear brother, who hath the blackest heart." Loki vents, tears welling in his eyes. "How would you feel, I wonder, were I to tear from you everything YOU love? If I were to rip out your pure heart and watch it bleeding on the floor? _Hmm?_ Mayhap when all of this is said and done, I'll finally put that call in to your fair Lady Jane. See how you like it as I deliver her upon death's door? Screaming as I-"

Hand to Loki's throat, Thor can take or hear no more of this. He flips his brother around, pinning him now to the wall.

"I loved Sigyn just as deep as you, Loki." Thor growls, his features hard and bitter. "Think not for a second that this isn't killing me just as it kills you."

Almost for a moment, it looks as if Loki may break down. Like he may embrace his brother so that they both may mourn together. Almost.

"And they call ME the liar..."

Smacking Thor's hands off him, Loki retreats back to his corner, alone, to take a seat at the opposite end of the room. Far from the rest of the group. Where, from there, he sulks in silence. Quiet as the others. None dare say a word to break this chilling calm. This tension to the air, hanging over like a noose. Like they've already lost before their journey has yet even begun.

That is until the door kicks wide open. The noise causing all to jump in their seats. And in the doorway, is none other than Sigyn.

In that very moment, Loki's heart leaps in both excitement and relief. Every fiber of his being screaming to jump up and go to her. Hold her and hug her and never ever let her go. But judging by that look about her, that hardened glare as she enters the room, reminds him best to not. Reminds him she still hates him. Even if she'd saved him in the dungeons, tis better to keep his distance. He knows this because he's worn that look but once or twice himself before. And it's pulling on his heartstrings just to see her this way.

The poor bride looks much worse for wear. Completely run through the ringer. Dress torn to ribbons and saturated with blood, now dried to a deep stain of red.

The pretty little flowers worn up in her hair have all since withered. Most having fallen out in the frenzy, but some still hang on upon her loose curls now disheveled.

And yet she lives. Somehow.

With a hard resolute, Sigyn walks in the door with a warrior's swagger. Head high and shoulders broad. Displaying not even an ounce of tire from the battle she'd forged all her own as she makes her way to the warmth by the fire. A soldier's stolen sword in one arm and a heavy bundle carried beneath the other. She drops her load down on the old, wooden table while everyone watches in interest.

And yet, despite the relief, that tension still hangs. Silence still lingers. Confused, Sigyn looks up from her bundle and asks, "What is with everyone? Why the silence?"

Thor crosses his arms, a soft smile working its way to his lips.

"Truth be told, we'd all thought you'd -"

"Perished?" Sigyn fills in the gap. With a shrug she sets to removing the contents of her sack. "You give your men far too much credit." She says in an emotionless tone. "I've fought better."

Loki watches as she pulls a silver breastplate from her bag and sets it on the table. A metal pleated skirt follows next, placed right down beside it. Adorned with such delicate decoration, tis armor of the likes in which he has never seen before.

Nay...

Nay, he _has_ seen such armor but once in his life. Tis the armor of...

Fandral rises from his seat. Flask in hand, he offers the lady his salute.

"Well, I must say. By Heimdall's eyeballs, m'lady, you are a sight for sore eyes!" The Dashing toasts. "Tis good to have you back in our graces once again. You were verily missed."

Just then, a man's voice calls from the other room.

"Sigyn?" The gruff voice shouts. "Is that Sigyn I hear?"

Loki furrows his brow quizzically. His head turned to the direction of the voice unknown. He'd no idea they weren't alone in this cottage. That it was otherwise occupied. But by whom?

The short, robust fellow appearing in the doorway to the room beyond gives him his answer. A Dwarf with a scruffy red beard and covered with soot from the furnaces below. He's no doubt one of Sigyn's elder brothers. And this? This must be her home.

It seems, in his unconscious state, that they have made their way to Nidavellir. Loki had no idea where they actually were until this moment. He's never been here before, in her home. Nor has he had the pleasure of personally meeting any of her extended family. Besides her father but a handful of times. And her mother, of course. The same that he'd murdered in cold blood.

The squat fellow hurries over, his thundering steps a contradictory to his size. So full of glee is he as he stops before his baby half-sister. Hugging the taller girl at the waist, he lifts her off her feet. A joyous homecoming despite her dour appearances. He hasn't a care for the blood on her dress or the carnage in her hair.

"So... How was the wedding?" The Son of Ivaldi grins as he returns the girl to her feet.

"Seriously?" Sigyn groans. As if he couldn't tell by the smell of battle on her.

The jolly Dwarf laughs. Holding his rounded stomach that quakes from his booming mirth.

"I can see it was quite the party!" He bellows. "I pity to spy the state of the groom!"

"Yes, well, consider yourself lucky you were too busy to attend."

Even when met with her own brother, Sigyn doesn't crack a smile. Despite his kind nature and deep laugh, there's no warmth to her at all. It's as if she's grown cold inside. Devoid of emotion. Distant.

Still standing, the ever oblivious Dashing watches the pair in an ever-growing inquisitiveness.

"I'm sorry, but I just have to ask." He begins with a quirked eyebrow. "But are the pair of you...?"

To this, the Dwarf offers an even more infectious belly laugh.

"Related? Aye!" He cries, throwing an arm around his sister. "Can you not tell the resemblance?"

Fandral still stands there, staring at the two standing side by side. Not sure if the man is pulling his leg or not. Truth be told, they don't look a thing alike. Not in the slightest. Regardless of the fact that he's a full-blooded Dwarf and she most definitely is not.

Where the son of Ivaldi is built strong and brawny, Sigyn's gracefully petite. He's red of hair and tawny. Skin like leather from hours toiling beside the fires of the forge. And Sigyn is of a paler color. Skin of fresh cream, as white as virgin snow. And hair so pure of gold and flaxen, one would think it to have been forged by her father's anvil.

"Different mothers." Thor explains, clearing things up for the poor, hopeless Dashing.

"Ah."

And with a nod, he takes his seat, finding he's nothing more to say.

"Speaking of which, I'd heard of what happened." The brother returns his attention to his sister. "I'm sorry to hear of her passing. Urik told me you'd spoken with him the last you'd visited. She was a real battle-axe, your mother. Tis hard to believe she's gone."

Loki watches the exchange between siblings, cringing inside every time they mention Sigyn's mother, Freya. Even though he knows deep inside that they know not the true identity of her killer, the Liesmith can't help but think they speak directly of him. Like somehow they know. As if it were written all over his face.

"Now that you mention the last I was here, you've reminded me, I'm going to need you to cancel that order."

Sigyn's older brother looks at her a bit skeptically.

"Odin's weapons order? The All-father?" He asks, scratching at his beard. "Might I ask why? Has he no use for equipping his soldiers?"

Rubbing the heel of her palm into the tension building behind her eyes, Sigyn groans. Yet even with her eyes shut and back towards him, tis as if Loki can feel her staring at him. As can he feel the whole of the room's attention on him.

"Long story." Is all she replies. "In the meantime, if you would be so kind as to gather up the rest of the clan, my friends will be needing proper outfitting for the journey ahead. We'd left the palace in a hurry..."

"Say no more." The jolly Dwarf smiles to his kin. "You'll be stocked with all the provisions you can carry. And well armed and suited, too."

"Thank you." The Maiden bows her head. "I've one more task."

She motions towards the battle regalia on the table.

"Your mother's?" He asks.

"Nay." She shakes her head. "Tis mine."

With a knowing nod, her brother retrieves the armor. Taking it into his arms.

"Of course. I'll have it shining like the sun." He replies kindly. "But if I were to be so bold to ask, what is it you all dare face?"

To this, Sigyn turns her attention to Loki, sitting by himself in the opposite corner. Tis the first she's even looked at him since coming upon the cottage. Something which makes his breath hitch the very moment their sights cross, for however brief a moment it's to be. And when the moment is gone, his heart returns to beating.

Just before it falls out of his chest and onto the floor.

"Damned if I know." She replies coldly, returning her attention to her brother. "Why not ask that THING in the corner who dares call himself my husband? Surely tis all his doing, after all."

And so the mood of the room turns tense again. All holding their breath. Frozen, as if anticipating _mommy_ and _daddy_ to begin their quarreling. All except Fandral who takes a sip from his flask.

"Well... This just became awkward." He jokes. "Suppose it's safe to say the honeymoon is over?"

Sigyn's brother clears his throat, sensing now would be the best time to leave.

"Gunter has gone ahead and taken the fattest cow to slaughter. We were saving it to celebrate your... _ehem_." Noticing Sigyn's deathly glare, he stops himself. "Well... I, uh... I think perhaps I'll go and check on how that's coming along. Yeah? Hope everyone's hungry!"

Either at the promise of food, or as a means of escaping the drama, Volstagg climbs to his feet so he may follow after.

"I think I shall help!"

And then there were six.

Fandral, relaxing with his feet up. Sif, never far from her blade. Hogun, quietly observant. Loki, alone and shrouded in shadow. And Thor, making his way over to Sigyn as to keep the peace between them all.

"Is everything alright?" He asks her calm and slow.

"But of course." She replies in thick sarcasm. "Tis my wedding day, after all. The day that every girl dreams of. I've never been happier."

Brushing Thor aside, Sigyn claims the sack she'd deposited on the table. Even after removing all her armor, it's clear to see the bag is far from empty.

"What's in the sack?" Thor asks.

Tis a simple question, really. A means to strike up conversation. He truly meant no harm. But harm is what is taken.

"None of your business." Is all Sigyn rudely replies.

Which irks the Thunder God, to say the least.

It's true. Thor can't possibly know what she's going through. And yet as a member of this quest, he can't have her acting the loose canon as she is. Running off on her own agenda and abandoning the team. If they're to go forward, he needs to know they can all work together. That they can get past this. Both Sigyn _and_ Loki. And as his friend, Thor needs her to be okay. Because right now she's anything but. Right now he can see so clearly that she's hurting. She's being destructive. Set to get herself killed.

There's an agony inside her that has got him terribly worried. Which only makes him press her harder.

"Tis the reason why you stayed behind, is it not?" He questions further. "You said you couldn't leave without it. So what is it?"

"Like I said, none of your business."

Thor grabs hold of her arm firmly. He's fully intent on not backing down from this one. Not until he gets the answers he needs.

"We all thought you dead, Sigyn." He says stern but with heart. "I want to know what was so damned important that you'd risk jeopardizing your life in order to procure. I think we ALL deserve an explanation!"

"Deserve?" Sigyn growls, scowling at his hand on her arm like it's some horribly appalling thing. "You think that you DESERVE to know what it is I risked my hide to have? What is SO important that I would render my life forfeit?"

Filled with venom, her eyes meet his. Such a look about her that Thor finds himself taken aback. Such a strange feeling to actually find himself afraid. Chilled right to the bone by just one look.

"Well, then." Sigyn seethes. "I say thee, nay."

She smacks his hand off her, nearly twisting it in the process.

"I didn't fight my way through upwards of sixty men and steal my way inside Odin's vaults, just so I may bow to your will. I bow to NO man. And I certainly don't answer to YOU."

"You broke inside the vault?" Thor bellows. "Why? What is it you stole of my Father's?"

Now he's pissed. That short fuse of his taking the upper hand to any concern he may have had. But when it comes to anger, Sigyn's the only flame which shines the brightest. Her rage equal to a thousand suns, rendering his to nothing but shadow.

Silent as a corpse, Loki sits observant. Such a strange feeling of confusion coming over him. Watching as Sigyn grabs Thor by the vest and slams him hard against the wall. Unsure whether he should be terrified or turned on by the heated altercation. Whether he should act or bide his time until the moment is right. Maybe if she has it out with Thor, then she will forget her feud with _him_. Or maybe she'll just rip both their bloody heads off. Because damned if he does and damned if he doesn't, try as he might, Loki will never be forgiven.

"I STOLE nothing. I only took that which was already mine to take. One cannot steal what's already been stolen." Sigyn snarls. "What I fought for? What I would DIE for? Tis of no concern to you OR your father, ODIN-son."

Her grips tightens around his armor.

"And besides, the whole of Asgard is under siege. I think one stuffy, old, misplaced relic is of little importance to your quest as of now. Don't you agree?"

Something splats upon the floor. Something wet. The familiar sound of blood as it streams down Sigyn's arm and drips off her elbow. A wound she must have sustained in the escape, now reopened.

Loki's eyes follow the trail to the quickly growing pool below. His heart falling into horror with every drop.

Only Sif has the courage to get up from her seat, stepping between that of Thor and Sigyn to bring an end to their stubborn argument.

"Sigyn..." Sif says in a slow, tender tone, diffusing the situation. "Dear, you're bleeding."

In a gutsy move, the Lady touches her hand softly to Sigyn's arm, right about where the source of the bleeding seems to be stemming from.

"Do you not feel that?" She says with a concern that borders motherly.

Breaking from their little battle for dominance, Sigyn removes her hands from Thor's person.

"I feel nothing." She says somberly, staring at her clearly wounded arm. Watching as the blood does seep through what is left of her once so beautiful gown.

Sigyn grabs her arm to stop the bleeding, taking a step back from Thor. She'd gotten herself so worked up, so angry, that she'd forgotten she was amongst friends, here. That the battle is over. There's no need for further bloodshed. Especially that of Thor's.

"Tis mine now, and we leave it at that." Sigyn warns, still very serious but now much calmer than before.

She flings the sack over her shoulder, turning to leave.

"Please, make yourselves at home. My brothers shall be more than accommodating. Should you require anything in your stay, don't hesitate to ask." The Maiden tries to sound hospitable, but really she's just going through the motions. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I think it best I retreat to my chambers so I may wash up and tend to my injuries. I'd like very much to get out of my wedding dress now..."

Only then do her emotions betray her. That slight waver to her voice. The pain in saying the words 'wedding dress'. Tis the chink in her indomitable armor. How it kills Loki to see her suffer so. His heart is breaking.

"Someone should go with her." Thor addresses the group, watching as Sigyn disappears into the hall with the stairs.

Loki stands immediately to go follow after his wife, but Thor holds up his hand.

"NOT you." Is all he growls.

And so Fandral stands, heading to the hall before Thor or anyone else has a chance to stop him. But the Dashing doesn't get far.

Everyone listens to the heavy thuds as he comes tumbling down the stairs. Emptying out at the bottom with a hard crash, splayed upon his back with his legs in the air for all to see.

Thor runs his hand through his auric hair and sighs.

"I meant SIF."

Fandral comes to his feet with a groan, clutching his nose from the blow Sigyn had dealt him. Again.

"Ah, yes." He agrees in a nasally tone. "I believe that would be best."


	35. Damage

**DAMAGE**

The room is small and quaint, but comfortable. Simple, with little more than a bed and wash basin, plus a few gas lanterns for light. Nothing of the girly sort one would expect of a lady's chamber. No dolls from her youth, or frills, and lace. A handful of dresses in the wardrobe, but other than that, nothing. Nothing but books.

But even without that feminine touch, it doesn't make the sparse space any less homey. There's a very special grace in its simplicity. Such lovely carvings adorn the framing about the room, as well as the furniture. Rosemaling, folk art painted in the form of brilliant blue flowers and scrolling calligraphy, decorate the woodwork throughout. Rustic, but charming all the same. Loved.

Beneath them, the lively sounds of feasting and revelry rises up through the thin, timber floorboards. Even from the comfort of Sigyn's room, Sif can hear so clearly as Volstagg spins another of his harrowing tales of bravery about the battlefield. An exaggeration of their escape from the dungeons as he swigs back a tall flagon of ale and breaks bread with the many of Sigyn's twelve Dwarven brothers.

Sif sits on the bed with two bowls of water beside her. One clean and the other muddied and red. A stitching needle lies at the bottom of the dirty bowl, now that the Lady has finished tending to her new friend and patient, Sigyn's, wounds.

"There... All finished." She sighs.

Clean from the bath and freshly mended, Sigyn rests beside her on the small wooden bed as Sif dips a cloth inside the clear water. She wrings out the excess and begins gently swabbing at her work. Not that she's much of a nurse, mind you, but the Lady can field dress a flesh wound as good as any man. If not, better.

"You're lucky." Sif says softly, wringing out the wash cloth and replacing it in the bowl. "A half inch to the left and tis likely you could have bled out. But it was a clean cut, I think it should heal quite nicely."

"Thank you." Sigyn replies, turning her arm as to inspect the neat row of stitches.

"Think nothing of it. Tis the least I can do with you saving our arses back there." The Lady offers a smile. "Which, I might add, is an incredulous feat. You're a very skilled fighter. I've never seen another Lady as talented with a sword as thee. Aside from myself, of course!"

"You flatter." Sigyn returns in a downtrodden tone. She should be glad for the compliment, but can't find it in her. "If I were as great as you say, I wouldn't have gotten myself injured."

"You took on sixty men." Sif reminds. "That's nothing to sneeze at."

"And yet it only takes _one_ to inflict damage."

Though they speak of the battle, Sif know's she means Loki. He who's inflicted the greatest damage of all.

"Still, what you did was nothing short of amazing." The Lady Sif urges. "As are _you_. You shouldn't beat yourself up about one little ding."

"I was sloppy."

"Then don't be so sloppy the next time! That's all we can do is learn from our experiences. _And_ our mistakes." Sif adds again with a much needed smile. "In either case, tis good to have another girl on the team. When one has carried on with an entourage of gentlemen soldiers as long as I have, one grows tired of the same trivial babble... and smells."

Now the good Lady Sif is just trying to make small talk, doing her best to avoid the great, big elephant in the room. Or mayhap Frost Beast would be more appropriate. i.e, Loki. But Sif's never been much good at these sorts of things. All that touchy, feely stuff. Being that shoulder on which to cry on. Someone relied upon for advice. Give her a sword and a mission any day, but when it comes to girl talk, she's completely out of her element. Which could be why the Lady has taken such a shining to Sigyn. She's found a kindred spirit in her fellow warrioress.

While all the other girls were off playing house and pretend, fantasizing about the man that they might one day marry and the children they would bare, Sif was out in the fields learning sword play with the boys. An odd duck, she never did fit in. She would have to fight harder, work harder, train harder, _be_ harder, just to earn even an _ounce_ of respect in the other lad's eyes. To prove, not only to them, but to herself, that she was worthy of fighting along side them. Which she did. Not only in fighting alongside them, but _better_.

So, in a houseful of men, mayhap Sif is the only one who can truly relate. Which makes her feel all the more responsible for the young woman. And all the more sorry.

* * *

At the banquet below, Volstagg finishes his tale, followed by the roaring applause of his fellow friends and their hosts. Beer steins clink to the sounds of laughter, splashing waves of ale. How it sparkles like amber in the torchlight as it flies through the air. Froth billowing like sea foam as the tide rolls right in.

Tis a festive night, indeed, despite their journey into the unknown ahead. While tomorrow may bring certain doom and damnation, tonight may very well be all they've got left. Tonight is for feasting and frivolity. For fun. To forget their worries of the trials ahead. But when one is as damned a Loki, one's troubles are never far behind them. No matter how much beer one consumes.

The Dark Prince hardly feels like celebrating as he swigs back another tankard. Nor is he hungry as he stares at his plate filled with food gone untouched.

He'd been dragged from the shadows by his brother, forced to sit among the crowd and interact like back when they were children. Be a good boy. Put on a show. Keep quiet. And smile. Always smile.

But Loki doesn't much feel like smiling, either. Not even a fake one. He just doesn't have it in him as he sits at the table, a part of the group, but not one of them. Listening to their fun, but all he can hear is _her_. In his head. Over and over. Sigyn's despair. His punishment.

 _"How could you be so cruel..."_ In his darkest thoughts, she reminds. _"I will NEVER love you."_

* * *

"You realize, once we return Odin to the throne, he can easily annul your vows." Sif tries to comfort. "The All-father has the authority to overrule Loki's command."

In the warmth of Sigyn's humble room, the two young women sit together side by side.

"What the Gods have joined, let none pull asunder." The newlywed recalls her wedding rites solemnly. "I'm afraid that relates even to King Odin. The All-father, despite all his power and glory, could not free me of my vows even if he tried. I married Loki despite his appearances. And so, I'm his until he says otherwise. Until he's no more use of me, whenever that shall be."

"Aye, but there has to be some other way." Sif holds out hope. "I mean, was the ceremony even legal and binding? Without the All-father to perform the rites..."

"It matters for not. Technically, Loki is still the acting King of Asgard. Even with his little charade, masquerading about as Odin, his word is still bond. Deception or not, there's no other way around it." Sigyn replies. "Trust me, I've thought this through. He's covered every angle. That's just what he does."

Sigyn stares down at the bowl of bloodied water. Her fingers softly tracing along the rough threading up her arm.

"But even if Odin _could_ free me..." She trails off.

Sif's eyes grow wide. It takes everything in her not to reach over and shake the listless girl. Smack some damned sense into her.

"Don't say it." She inhales sharply. "Please tell me you don't actually WISH to be his wife?"

"Wished? Nay. Maybe once upon a time..." Sigyn says so softly, her eyes so far away. Lost in her own red reflection. "I think... I think tis more like I _deserve_ it."

Breaking from her reflection, her eyes meet Sif's. However cold, there's now that hint of terror behind them.

"I think I always knew it. That Theoric was truly Loki." Sigyn reveals, not only to Sif, but to herself. "And I think I _wanted_ it to be so."

* * *

"You know, I'm a family man, myself." Volstagg boasts, wiping froth from his beard with the back of his hand. "Large family, just like the lot of you."

"With Volstagg being the LARGE!" Fandral laughs, slapping his hand down on the table.

"Aye. AND in charge. Lest ye not forget it, either!"

The Voluminous eyes the cheeky Dashing, wagging a meaty rib bone in his direction.

"Anyway, as I was saying, I have four daughters, m'self. Four strapping young lads of my own, too." He continues, returning his attention to the Dwarf seated beside him. "As my boys can be a wee might protective of their sisters, I can only imagine how protective you all must have been of Sigyn as she grew up. I can imagine many a caller being chased from this home with much more than a stick up their arses!"

To this, the elder Dwarf laughs into his beer.

"Protective? Sure!" He says in drunken glee. "But not of Sigyn, nay."

"Aye. I don't know if you've noticed, but the girl can take care of herself." Another one adds.

"I'd be more concerned for the protection of your friend, there!" Yet another chimes in.

The Dashing leans forward in his chair.

"Oh, trust me." He grins impishly. "We're not in the slightest bit concerned."

"Nor are we friends." Hogun tacks on, less than amused.

Which is about all the God of Mischief can take. The final straw to the evening as Loki rises from the table, so abruptly it causes all to stop in their feasting. Even Volstagg.

"What are you doing?" Thor asks of his brother.

"Making Sigyn a plate before the _glutton_ devours it all." Loki replies rudely, grabbing a biscuit from the table and slamming it down on his plate.

Fandral sidles in closer to Volstagg.

"I think he'd be referring to _you_." He teases, whispering in his fellow Warrior's ear.

It's so plain to see they do not want him here, so why try to stop him. And why bother staying. Loki's put up with their fun long enough. As had he had enough.

"She needs her strength for the journey ahead." The Mischief God continues on. "I know not when last she ate."

Nodding, Thor motions towards Hogun, who begins to stand.

"NAY!" Loki practically explodes, pointing his finger angrily at the Grim to sit his ass back down. "Nay... She is MY responsibility. Not yours. Or Thor's. Or ANY of you witless dolts. MINE! And I'll be damned if I cannot bring my wife her bloody supper if I so choose. Last I checked, I was the FUCKING KING of ASGARD. And I will not be told what I can and cannot do by the likes of YOU!"

The table sits silent as the high and mighty he-who-would-be-king claims his plate of food and pushes in his seat. Quite loudly as its legs scrape against the floor.

"Now, if you'll excuse me." Loki sneers snidely. "Thank you for the bloody hospitality."

* * *

"What is _wrong_ with me?"

Sigyn shakes her head, averting her face away again. Tears now forming in her eyes. The last thing she wants is to break down again. To cry. Even if it is only in front of Sif. She'd promised herself she'd be stronger than that. That she feels nothing. But the stitches hurt less than all the cuts in her heart. A wound to which there is no salve or cure.

"How could I have not seen it? I should have seen right through his deception. Why could I not?" A distressed Sigyn contemplates. "I was so blinded by the lies, by _love_ , I couldn't see what was happening right before my very eyes. It's my own fault for having been tricked so easily. I deserve to be wed to that... that MONSTER."

Sliding the bowls off to the side, Sif moves closer to Sigyn on the bed.

"You cannot blame yourself, love." She encourages, with a comforting hand on her knee. "You want to get angry? Fine, get angry. But not at yourself. This is all HIS fault, and don't you forget that. Not even for a second."

"Aye, but-"

"Nay. No buts." Sif holds firm, squeezing Sigyn's knee for strength. "We were ALL deceived. As Odin, he had me out running missions for him, doing Gods knows what for whatever he's got planned. All the while, I had NO idea. Even his own brother, Thor, was none the wiser. And neither were you. There's no way you could have possibly known Loki was still alive and parading about in someone else's skin. None of us did."

Sitting beside her, Sif begins combing her fingers through Sigyn's damp hair, separating it into sections.

She'd never had a sister, or really any girl friends for that matter, but always expected this is what it would be like. To have someone worth protecting.

"He's a liar. Tis what he does best." Sif continues as she begins braiding Sigyn's hair. "You cannot be so hard on yourself for falling for his tricks. Trust me, it's happened to the best of us."

* * *

Climbing the stairs, Loki hasn't any idea which room is hers. Though it's hardly a palace, he can manage just fine. Finding his way to the chamber with its door shut and bolted tight, he can hear the voices of two women just on the other side. That of Sigyn and Sif. The Beauty and the She-Beast.

Standing tall and sure, the Dark Prince steels himself. Chest out and deep breath in, readying for anything of which to come. Anything at all. Except for that which he hears next.

 _Monster_.

Just beyond the thick, pine door, Loki can hear so clear as Sigyn calls him a monster. That word that he so dreads. Causing him to stop immediately. Paralyzing him. His knuckles a mere inch from the wood as he was just about to knock on the door. Now perfectly still. Silent.

He stays like that for a moment, in a state of complete shutdown, before realizing there's someone else there. Just behind him, Thor, as the Goodly Prince reaches the top of the stairs.

Without turning to face him, Loki slowly and quietly stoops down to place the plate of food on the floor outside her door. He doesn't even make a sound. Nor does he address his brother. Instead, as he stands with his back towards him, he awaits the 'I told you so'. The insult to his injury that he more than expects from Thor. The blow that doesn't come.

Instead, Thor comes up behind him and pats a heavy hand down on Loki's slumped shoulders.

"Come." He thunders softly. "Let us rest. We leave at dawn."

And without another word, he leads them to the open room next door.


	36. Sibling Rivalry

**SIBLING RIVALRY**

One wall. One wall is all that separates him from her.

Laying on the too-small bed, a bed better suited for a Dwarf than a Giant, or even an Asgardian-sized Giant, Loki kicks off his boots, letting his feet hang over the edge of the footboard.

"You know they were just having a laugh." Thor says out of nowhere, referring to his friend's comments from earlier.

"I don't care what they were having." Loki mutters to the wall.

Resting atop the enormous sheepskin rug on the floor beside the bed, Thor folds his muscular arms behind his head and stares up at the ceiling and sighs.

"If you want to talk about it..."

 _I'm here_ , he thinks as he trails off.

He tells himself he shouldn't care. That Loki's gotten what he'd had coming to him for quite some time now. That he deserves it. For Sigyn. For Odin. For all of this mess. That he's not even his brother, anyhow. The man sharing his space, his air, is not one in the same as the boy he once knew. The child he'd played with. The young man he had fought both with and beside. The brother he'd loved.

And yet...

And yet, no matter how hard he tries, how many times Loki's deceived and betrayed, Thor just can't help himself. He'll always have a soft spot for his black sheep of a brother. Because that's exactly what he is. Family.

"Too little, too late, to play the attentive older brother, you think?" Loki groans. "Shall we stay up swapping gossip like a pair of old maids? Mayhap braid each other's hair?"

Braid...

Loki runs his fingers through his hair, rolling the braid Sigyn had woven for him between his middle finger and thumb. Just before digging his claws into the thing and unraveling it altogether.

"Because I do, Thor. I think it's far too late for your ill attempt at kindness." Shaking out his hair, Loki brushes it back from his face. "Nor do I much feel like sharing my feelings with you like we're some sort of..."

"Besties?" Thor adds with a sneaky grin, raising an eyebrow as he looks up towards the bed.

As if he could possibly see Loki rolling his eyes from his position on the floor. Which he can't. But he can definitely hear his brother groaning.

"You've been spending far too much time among those chittering dullards of Midgard." Loki chides, earning a chuckle from Thor.

"They're not so bad, really." Thor happily defends. "When you're not trying to enslave them."

Which, in turn, earns a short laugh from Loki.

"One cannot enslave that which is already a slave by their own design."

"That's not true."

"Oh, but it is." Loki argues. "They go about their short and sorry little lives doing what, exactly? Glued to their magic little screens of mind-diluting bliss? Caring for not if the man, woman, or child beside them could be starving, or dying, or lying in the gutter somewhere. But for the sake of what it means for _them_. How they could possibly exploit the issue whilst doing as little to nothing as they can possibly do about it. Such things are best left to their so-called heroes, after all. Passing the buck and blame to beings just as base and broken as themselves. It's all so pointless, really. Their lives are all so brief. And instead of choosing the more fulfilling path, they'll gladly accept the meaningless existence. Every time. Over and over again. A cycle to which there is no end."

Wide-eyed, Thor stares at the ceiling. Quiet. In a state of shock after Loki's little tirade.

"Wow..." He finally exhales. "Well aren't you a little spot of sunshine."

"All I'm saying is that these humans of Midgard that you adore so much, they're nothing but selfish, warmongering, sheep. Easily led and so quick to betray. The lot of them. They care for nothing but themselves." The Dark Prince shares soberly. "They don't deserve your kindness. They don't _deserve_ a second chance."

It's so plain to see that Loki's no longer talking about Midgard, but himself. Even Thor's quick to pick up on it.

"I like to think they're not all bad. That there's still so much good left should you dare peek beneath the surface." Thor addresses Loki. "There's still hope."

"And what hope is left for _me_?" Loki places his hand upon the wall. Palm flat against the woodgrain. The physical barrier between that of he and Sigyn.

He sighs.

"She hates me." Loki reveals quietly. Nearly a whisper.

"Can you blame her?"

Nay. Nay, he cannot.

Even if he doesn't say it, for Loki, his silence has always said much more than words. Always so quiet and contemplative, an introvert by nature. But Thor _knows_. As has he always. He's learned to read his brother well. At times, even seeing through most tricks. The Odinson can feel it in his presence. In the air all about him. That remorse. That pain and regret. That sorrow to which there is no beginning, middle, or end.

Loki's fingers begin idly tracing along a knot in the wood, swirling about the rings where a branch had been severed from its parent tree.

He finds himself conflicted. Wanting so badly to keep all his pain inside, to not let it out, especially to Thor. He'd said he didn't want to talk about it, that he didn't want to share, but then there's the part of him that _needs_ to tell his story. That needs to find some comfort in someone. Anyone. For the chance to be forgiven. To let his wounded heart begin to mend.

And so, he gives in.

"I'd stolen more than a mere kiss from her this time, you know." Loki confides slowly. "I lied my way into her bed. Deceived her for, what, but my own selfish needs. I betrayed Sigyn. I betrayed her trust."

Lying on his back, Thor listens to Loki's confession. Eyes to the ceiling, following along the large timber beams. Studying how the rich, exposed wood juts out from the white plaster. Such a simple but stark contrast as the image shifts from dark to light. Dark to light.

He closes his eyes.

"Do you remember when we were little and we'd have campouts in the hay loft above the stables?" Thor asks, completely off topic.

Loki nods, even if only for himself. Tis not like Thor is watching.

"Aye." He replies, reminiscing not all too fondly. "I'd stink of manure for a week. Never could get that smell out of my nose."

From the floor, Thor laughs.

"Why do you ask?" Loki inquires.

"Not sure." The Odinson shrugs, opening his eyes back up to the black on white ceiling. "I suppose all of this reminds me of that. A simpler time. How we would stay up till the brink of dawn telling stories of the sort of men we'd one day grow to be."

The sort of men... As if those plans ever did involve a bastard Frost Giant. A relic with no future, with nary a purpose at all.

"Mmm... The dreams of children." The Laufeyson replies. "How far we've wandered from the path."

"Not so far that we cannot find our way back."

Loki's gone silent again. Staring at the wall, mayhap pretending he's not listening, but Thor knows he can hear just fine. He knows his words are getting through to him. Sinking right in.

"Why did you lie to her?" Thor asks, returning to Loki's confession.

The Liesmith repositions himself on the uncomfortable bed, now staring at the ceiling, as well. He folds his arms behind his head.

"Oh, I don't know. Mayhap the little detail that up until twelve hours ago, I was legally deceased?" He jests. A defense to hide his true emotions. His true pain. "Just like I don't know why I'm even telling you all this. I said I didn't wish to share my feelings, and yet you've roped me into this-"

"Broprah moment?" Thor interjects with another one of his newly discovered Midgardian phrases, courtesy of the interwebs. That and his puny, human roommate Darryl, whom has had many a Broprah moment of his own.

Which causes Loki to sit upright in bed. Staring down at the Prince as if he has lobsters growing out of his ears.

"Beg pardon?" Is all he can bring himself to say.

"Broprah moment." Thor repeats himself, now more sure and firm. As if the term explains itself.

Loki continues with his staring. His mouth held agape. Finding himself somewhere in the realm between disgust and confusion. He crooks a very curious eyebrow at the God of Storms and Thunder.

"I'm not even going to pretend to know what that means."

Thor offers one of his most charming of grins up at his brother.

"Tis when a gathering of men host a sitting to share their feelings and have a good cry." He explains.

Still, Loki stares. The corner of his lip twisted up into a sneer. His eye begins to twitch unexpectedly.

"I hate you." Loki moans, rubbing at the tension building just between his eyes. "I hate you so much right now."

With a thundering rumble, Thor laughs good and hard, holding his chest as he rolls on the floor. That infectious sort of laugh that Loki can hardly bring himself to admit that he'd been missing. So infectious that Loki almost forgets that he's hurting. Tis so plain to see, especially for one as attuned as he, that the big, stupid, lug is going out of his way to try and lift Loki's spirits. Which very well might have worked, except there's one catch. The Liesmith doesn't _want_ to be happy. He doesn't want to allow himself to be cheered up. All that Loki wishes for is to be left to wallow in the depths of his own self-pity. To drown in his depression and hatred of himself.

"I see what you're doing, Thor, and it won't work." Loki returns to lying on the bed, his back flat against the mattress. "As I've told you already, we're enemies. Nothing more. I don't know why you insist on trying."

Loki folds his arms at his chest, staring hard at the ceiling as he draws his lips into a thin, straight line.

Without looking, he can hear Thor repositioning, as well. The sound of his body shifting as he turns to face the bed.

"Aye. We SHOULD be enemies, Loki. As should I hate you. Really, I should. You've given me more than ample reason to, seeing as you've hidden father away to Gods know where. Not to mention, deeply hurt one of our dearest childhood friends. Impersonated the crown. Thrown our kingdom into ruin. LIED to me time and time again. And yet... And yet try as I might, I cannot. I cannot bring myself to hate you, brother." Thor replies, from the bottom of his heart. "You're my brother, Loki, despite whatever you may say or believe. And I know, in the past, I hadn't always been the greatest brother to you. I know I wasn't always there, but I've changed. And I know you can change, too."

It wasn't so long ago when Thor had found himself humbled. How spoiled he was, how arrogant and impulsive, before the kind people of Midgard took it upon themselves to take him into their hearts and their homes and show him mercy. And just when he was at his lowest. Just as Loki is now. One cannot begin to rise, to grow, until they've hit rock bottom.

"We've all done things that bring us shame. That we regret. Tis what we do after that defines us." Thor continues. "And if it truly is redemption that you seek, then I will help you, brother."

Completely nauseated, Loki groans.

"Such heartfelt words. Truly. I'm touched." He expresses sarcastically. "And what makes you think you can finally trust me, 'brother'. After all you've said I've done, what of after I've betrayed you?"

"You won't." Thor replies so simply. Just like back inside the dungeon. Tis easy because he already knows the answer.

"And what makes you so sure?" Loki asks.

As if he even has to, the answer is that simple.

"Because as long as _she's_ around, you'll dare not risk such another betrayal. Am I correct?" Thor answers expectedly. "You seek her forgiveness, not for her to loathe you forever."

"Oh, I think I've already verily earned the title of most loathsome." Loki laughs. "Trust me, I can't sink any lower."

"Then the only way to go is up, yeah?"

Loki doesn't answer, thus bringing the pair back to an awkward silence.

Returning his eyes to the ceiling, Thor sighs long and deep.

"Please... Just tell me father is alright."

Tis not a question. Not one in which he wants to know the answer to, anyway. Not if the truth is worse than fiction.

"And should I say 'aye'? What then?" Loki asks. "Even if I say he is, how could you believe that what I say is true? What if it's a lie? Would you still wish for me to tell you what you long to hear?"

Thor remains quiet. He knows that he can't believe everything that Loki says. Not entirely. But he _wants_ to. He needs to keep that hope alive. For his father, and for Loki's sake, as well.

"Odin's fine, Thor." After a moment, Loki answers softly. "I promise you he's fine."

Whether or not it's true, Thor takes his statement at face value. Tis not that he believes in the words that Loki says, but he believes in his brother enough to give him this chance. A foolish decision, some might say, but tis his decision to make. Because when it comes to family, there's nothing he won't do. Even if it ends up biting him in the arse. As what tends to happen whenever Loki is involved.

And so the room becomes quiet. Both brothers lost in their deep thoughts. Reflecting on their heart to heart. All that has transpired in this one little room. With extra emphasis on the _little_. Far too small for either of these Gods, or their larger than life egos. And yet they've found comfort. An uneasy alliance, but peace all the same. As has Loki found what it was he was looking for. Hope. Even if he won't admit it. Well... Maybe just this once.

"Thor?" Loki asks, breaking the silence.

"Hnn?" Thor responds, back to staring at the ceiling.

Loki goes quiet again, as if searching for the words. Something profound and with great meaning to put it all into perspective everything that he is feeling and wanting to say. Until finally, he just goes for it.

"Thank you."

Two little words and yet they're so difficult to say. Painstaking, even. Like pulling teeth for the Master of Mischief and Lies.

Thor cracks a grin.

Despite the constant competition for Father's love and attention, there was a time when Thor and Loki really were quite close. However bitter their sibling rivalry had become, never was there any doubt that they truly ever loved one another. And tonight? For the first time in Gods know how long, it verily feels like old times. So Thor smiles. It feels as if he's got his brother back. Even if only for this moment.

Loki's eyes grow wide, terrified as Thor climbs to his feet.

"What are you doing?" He begs the question.

"I'm going to give you a hug." Thor replies, closing the gap.

Sitting upright with a start, Loki scuttles backwards, feet all tangled in the sheets as he tries in vain to escape.

"N-No. That's quite alright!"

He presses himself against the wall, making himself as thin and flat as possible. But it's no use. Thor grabs hold of one of his lean arms and reels him right in.

"Come 'ere, you!"

The elder brother clomps right on him, smothering the little Giant inside his great big arms, rendering Loki nothing more than a prisoner encased within Thor's mighty hug.

"I take it back! I take it back!" Loki cries, his cheek smushed against Thor's naked chest. His nose right up inside his armpit. "Get off me! Get off!"

The Odinson laughs a mighty laugh whilst Loki struggles in his embrace. His arms flailing all about in the air as the younger brother battles to breathe beneath his elder's massive build.

And only when Thor's had his fill and Loki can take no more, does the God of Thunder finally let his brother free.

"Ugh. I'm all sticky." Loki cries, his face beet-red and hair all a mess. "You sweat like a Muspell hog, you know that?"

Still, Thor laughs. Even as he reclaims his spot on the floor. He can't for the life of him remember the last time he's laughed like this. Especially with Loki.

"Please. Do me a favor. The next time you feel some such urge coming on, just hit me with your hammer again, will you? Any punishment you deliver would be a hundred times more enjoyable than THAT torture."

The Puny God begins grooming himself with his hands, running his fingers through his black mane to try and fix himself after the ordeal. But just as he finally begins to settle and find some semblance of dignity and composure, he discovers something completely unnerving.

"Oh... Oh, Gods." Loki starts to freak out. "I... I have your hair in my mouth."

Sticking his fingers in his mouth, Loki frantically pursues the rogue hair tickling at the back of his throat. Gagging like a cat with a hairball whilst Thor laughs on. Tears streaming down his cheeks, he's going at it so hard.

Finally, Loki fishes out that fiendish, golden strand. So close to vomiting as he pulls the culprit from deep down within his throat.

"I loathe you." He mutters breathlessly, his chest heaving as he looks out over the side of the bed towards Thor rolling on the floor.

"I love you, too, little brother." Thor grins up at him.

Earning the childish older brother a pillow thrown right smack to the face.

* * *

 _ **Shoutout to Darryl! Thor's puny, human roommate! GO TEAM THOR!**_


	37. Cock Block

**COCK BLOCK**

The sun is yet to rise, but the Ivaldi household is awake and brimming with activity. Many of the brothers are already up and working, some having toiled through the night to keep the coals stoked and forges hot. To fulfill the constant onslaught of orders coming in. But most importantly, to outfit our merry band of would-be heroes.

Dressed and ready for combat, Sigyn unlocks and exits her bedroom door to find a plate of food waiting for her on the floor immediately outside. Not the dinner that Loki had deposited the night before, he'd woken early and swapped it out for a fresh bowl of porridge with a big, sweet chunk of honeycomb nested on top. That and the wild blueberries he had picked personally from the bush he'd spied just beyond the kitchen window. An overly sweet gesture. Gallant, even. But not one that finds itself at all appreciated.

With the tip of her boot, Sigyn pushes the dish aside and out of her way as she exits the bedroom. Pretending she doesn't notice the slight tugging on her heartstrings as she looks at the food, the gift, he'd prepared just for her. Or the way her heart skips once her eyes meet with his. Something she'd been trying very hard to avoid upon descending the staircase. A fluttering feeling which is very much shared.

Sitting at the kitchen table, Loki sets about the task of sharpening his weapons. The daggers that Sigyn's Dwarven brothers had fashioned for him. A miracle Thor had granted him the license to wield, but after their little one-on-one brotherly bonding exercise the night before, the Odinson seems to have become a bit more trusting of the Liesmith. Mayhap not the wisest decision. Certainly not the most popular, given Sif's sideways glare. But tis the first step in trying to open up a channel of trust between the two brothers. That and the fact that Loki would have likely just stolen a set of blades, anyhow. Tis not like he _needs_ Thor's permission. Like Hel he would have begun this journey unarmed and with no means to protect himself. Or _her_.

He'd just finished imbuing his blades with poison, his very own special recipe, when he hears a pair of feet coming down the staircase. Instinctively, Loki looks up. His eyes following the sound to figure out the source. Finding much to his growing nerves and excitement, tis Sigyn belonging to such feather-light footsteps.

Like deer caught in torchlight, the pair freeze right up. Unable to move or think or speak. Just staring at one another. The longest she's even looked at him since the wedding. Which causes Loki's chest to tighten. His heart to jump in leaps and bounds. He smiles at her. Small and timid, but true. But she looks the other way.

Finally catching her wits about her, Sigyn turns and heads for the door in search of one of her brothers. Her features cold and emotionless. Pretending as if the moment between them hadn't happened at all.

As does Loki return his attention to his blades. Cleaning up his supplies and stashing his weapons inside the pockets sewn into his green, leather tunic. Muttering beneath his breath at his stupidity. For choking when he should have acted. Tis a new day, after all, and he's bent to win her back. He must.

From the pantry, Lady Sif watches the whole exchange as she fills her pack with provisions. As can Loki feel her beady judging eyes upon his back.

"Should you have anything to say, Sif. Please... Don't hold back on my account." Loki says with his back still towards her.

He can hear the swish of her ponytail cutting through the air as she abruptly turns on her heels to leave.

"You're deplorable." The Lady hisses on her way as she passes, off to seek out Volstagg for another pack.

"Always a pleasure speaking with you!" Loki calls after.

And then he's alone again. A feeling he used to very much enjoy. But now...

With a huff, Loki rises from his seat and grabs the long, leather jacket draped over the back of his chair. Putting it on as he heads to find the rest of their crew.

Hogun's out in the barn, securing the horses. Volstagg is about, having a laugh and talking shop with one of the Dwarves. Thor's down below, getting fitted for a new metal breastplate and armor. Sif's filling yet another pack with provisions and supplies. Which leaves only Fandral unaccounted for. Primping in a mirror somewhere, no doubt. Loki need not know what that swashbuckler is up to this early in the morning, locked inside the wash closet.

In boredom, Loki travels from room to room. Not that he plans on making himself useful to the 'team', but he has nothing better to do than to waste his time before they take this show on the road.

Shoving his hands in his coat pockets, Loki stops at a bookshelf, teetering back and forth on his heels as he peruses the shelves of knickknacks and oddities and the like. He lifts a little wooden boat from one such shelf when suddenly, he hears Sigyn's voice carry over from just the other room next door, thus piquing his curiosity. Standing in place, Loki leans backwards as far as he can without falling over, nearly bending himself into an upside down 'L' so he can spy through the open doorway just what is transpiring.

From his awkward position, he spots Sigyn and one of her brothers having a conversation about something. She hands him a sack, the same from last night. The one that had gotten good ole dear brother Thor so hot and bothered over. Containing whatever it is she had stolen from the All-father's well-guarded vault.

Curiouser and curiouser, indeed.

He can just make out Sigyn telling her Dwarven brother to guard it with his life, before kneeling to his level and giving him a strong but heartfelt hug. A tender moment, not knowing when she would ever see her family again. If ever.

And so Loki watches. His heart filled with something that isn't quite jealousy, but a hurt. A yearning for her to hold him the same. Even just a little. That and the nagging feeling deep within his bones that whatever it is sitting at the bottom of that sack is important. So terribly so.

Sigyn stands and straightens her short, pleated skirt, readying to leave her brother and the room. As does Loki straighten himself immediately, nearly falling on his ass in the process as he instantly returns to whatever he'd been occupying his attention with on one of the bookshelves. Pretending he hadn't been eavesdropping at all.

She enters the room and stops just inside the doorway, staring at Loki meticulously inspecting a book plucked right off the shelf.

"Are you... _spying_ on me?" Sigyn asks, glaring at the upside down book in his hands.

"Nay. Of course not." Loki lies nonchalant, pretending to read his inverted book before casually returning it to the shelf. A sly smirk works its way onto his lips. "What's in the bag?"

With a roll of the eye, Sigyn huffs and storms from the room. Loki follows, hot on her heels. His whole being thrumming with a childlike excitement.

"We have something in common, you and I." Loki gushes, stepping up right beside Sigyn. "I borrowed the Casket of Ancient Winters from Odin's treasure trove, while you..."

"I didn't STEAL anything." Sigyn interjects.

"Steal? Borrow? Take? Why mince words?" He grins. "What's important now is that we have some common ground lain between us. We're so very much alike, thee and me. As have we so very much to talk about now. And communication is key. Which, as I've been told, is the basis for any healthy relationship."

"You and I are nothing alike." She reminds through grit teeth.

Sigyn could quicken her pace but it would do of little good.

"So what you're saying, then, is that opposites attract?" The Trickster twists her words.

"I'm saying there is no US."

There's nowhere to run to in this house. Or anywhere. Wherever, whenever, there is no escape from him.

"Yes, dear." Loki nods playfully.

"We've NO relationship." Sigyn continues seriously. "Healthy or otherwise."

"Of course, my wife."

"Why are you still talking?" She hisses.

"Because I love the sound of my voice." The Liar answers honestly, earning a much agitated groan from the woman at his side.

Making their way through the house, Loki and Sigyn find themselves back inside the kitchen where Sif is just finishing filling the canteens with fresh water from the well.

"By the way, did you receive the breakfast I'd laid out for you?" Loki tries his hand at charming. "And might I just add how absolutely breathtaking you look this morning?"

Which she is.

The armor she wears is simply elegant. Her breastplate of the brightest, shining silver. As magnificent as the sun and decorated in lovely knots and scrolling metalwork, some of which fashioned into the likeness of feathers. While her skirt is of rich leather and steel. Pleated and short, coming to a hem at but a quarter of her thigh to make for easy movement along the battlefield.

The whole of her uniform leaves for little of the imagination. With much of her skin exposed, namely her arms, legs, collar and back, it leaves all of those spots open, which are most vulnerable to an attack. And yet in that lies the advantage. While her armor does little in the realm of protection, it does wonders in mobility, making her quick on her feet. Tis lightweight and breathable. Thus making for a stark contrast to his own outfitting. What with his long, heavy coat, tall boots, and the thick green and black leathers he wears. It only proves that while he is better suited to fight amongst the shadows, she is built for the advance. Right on front line.

And Loki should be terrified. The last he'd seen such armor, he was on his back in the midst of a field of blood, about to get his neck snapped in two. But on Sigyn? On Sigyn, she looks so pure and beautiful. The very definition of goddess. Nothing short of a queen. Unlike another certain Lady in their presence.

Loki spots Sif at the other end of the room. The protective Mother Hen with her sights on the fox in the roost. Laying down the last of her canteens, she fixes to march over. A cock block to which nothing but a little bit of magic cannot solve.

With the slightest flick of the finger, Loki causes a pack to topple over, spilling its contents out all over the floor, along with the canteens. Thus causing Sif to stop and clean up after her oh-so clumsy mess.

"As I was saying..."

Though cool on the outside, how his heart does race as he reaches out to touch her. His fingers grazing along the soft white fur draped proud upon her shoulders. Now cleaned, tis the same that she had worn at the time of their wedding. Something that he'd noticed immediately. That and the fact that she doesn't move as he so boldly bridges the gap between them. She doesn't even flinch.

Her cold, pale eyes focus solely on his. As does his shining emerald on her own. Locked in gaze as his fingers dare to wander.

His hand softly glides from the fur and down her arm. Slowly. So terribly slowly. Inch by anxious inch. As if coaxing a viper, Loki waits for her to strike. Waits for her rejection of him and his touch, but she does nothing. And so he continues.

Lower down her arm his fingers glide. Like snowflakes kissing her skin, the hair on the back of her arm stands upright as the cold of his fingers passes over her.

Tis such a familiar feeling. That electricity as his fingers come to a rest atop her own. How his larger hand mirrors her smaller, more delicate one, just before he marries their fingers together. Weaving them side by side as he joins his hand in hers.

Though her features never shed their sharp and bitter edge, as Loki stares into her eyes he can sense but the slightest betrayal of emotion. There's a softness there. A warmth. Hope. He can _feel_ it. And he knows that she can feel it too.

"Sigyn, my sweetest Sunshine, I -"

Just then, Fandral bursts in through the back door leading from the outside and into the kitchen.

"HO!" He bellows joyfully, addressing all inside. "We've just about finished with preparations. If the lot of you are ready, we'll be setting off momentarily!"

And so, the moment's passed.

Whatever kindness he had found in her eyes has died. Returned to the frigid hatred he deserves.

Scowling, Sigyn retracts her hand from his before making her way towards Fandral waiting at the door. As does Sif glare at Loki as she, too, finds her way to the Dashing.

"M'ladies."

With a chivalrous bow, Fandral holds the door for the pair of ladies as they pass.

"My, I'd think I'd died and gone to Valhalla." He quips as Sigyn crosses the threshold. "My dear, you are absolutely divine."

Though Sigyn doesn't look back to notice, Loki can see quite clear the lecherous way that Fandral does stare as she passes. How his eyes do run up and down the length of her bare back. That slight tilt to his head as his attention comes to a rest on her skirted behind. Just before his sights meet the floor.

Yet another flick of Loki's wrist, and Fandral finds the rug getting pulled out from under him. Quite literally as he falls flat on his face in the open doorway.

With a self-satisfied grin, Loki shoves his hands in his pockets and heads to the door. Following after the ladies as he steps over the fallen Fandral, now on his back groaning and clutching his head.

"Best watch your step!" Loki puckishly sings a warning as he goes.

Once outside, he can see Sif and Hogun securing the packs to the horses while Volstagg is scratching at his beard, trying to figure out the logistics of whether or not the great beast can withstand his valorous weight.

Sigyn is saying her farewells to that of her kin. Bending low, she accepts a pair of blades from one of her smithing brothers and so sheaths them in the dual scabbard on her back.

As is Thor saying his goodbyes. With a hearty handshake, the Prince of Asgard thanks the Ivaldison brethren for their hospitality. For opening their home to the lot of them and providing the necessities for the journey ahead. To where, only Loki knows for certain. Tis a journey into mystery that awaits them all.


	38. Come Whatever May

**COME WHATEVER MAY**

Thor and Sigyn ride up front, followed by Loki, with Hogun, Fandral, and Volstagg at either side to assure the Trickster isn't up to his old tricks. Sif rides a short distance behind the group, watching for anyone who might either be keen enough or stupid enough to follow. Keeping an eye on the group to keep everyone safe. Though if something terrible were to happen to Loki, she supposes that wouldn't be _too_ bad. Tis not like she'd lose sleep over it.

They'd been riding for hours now, nearly a whole day, and with no end in sight. Through the great woods along the Nidavellir border, chasing sunlight as Loki promised there'd be a portal between worlds up ahead. Every hour or so, assuring tis just a little bit further. Just a little further... While, to Sif, it feels as if every hour they be riding closer and closer toward their doom.

And between those hours, Loki casts his wanting eyes not on the picturesque scenery or even the path up ahead, but on Sigyn. As he only has eyes for her.

From her vantage, Sif can see it so well. The way he looks at her. Especially when he thinks no one is watching. Tis a look that can't be faked or fooled. There's no trick or deception to it, at all. No lies. The way that Loki looks at Sigyn is as if nothing else matters. Like she is his world. Because she most verily is. And despite whatever ill feelings she has towards Loki, Sif can't help but feel the slightest pricklings of envy in that. How she'd long for someone, anyone, to look at her the same as he looks at Sigyn.

Even as a boy, he had looked at her the same. Like he'd be ever lost without her. Though Sif could hardly say she knew Sigyn well at all, all those years back when. She hardly even knew her name. They'd run in different circles. What with Sif always off in the fields sparring with Thor and Sigyn hanging about with younger brother, Loki. She'd always spy the two of them as she'd head off bright and early to train. Lying in the tall summer grass beneath a shady tree, reading and the like. Even then, it was so plain to see. The way he'd idolized her. Cherished her. He _loves_ her, as strange as that may be. Sif had thought the Laufeyson incapable of such a thing.

But even still, that doesn't fix what he had done. That doesn't right his wrongs and change the fact that he's... well... _Loki_. That impudent child who'd thought it a laugh to cut off all of Sif's hair as she lay sleeping. Who'd sent the Destroyer after Thor. Who'd thought to enslave Midgard. Who is solely to blame for this little excursion. Who tricks and deceives and lies and can and will do so again. Who is bound to kill them all. While laughing.

And yet... That look.

"Alright. I think it best we stop here for a bit. Let the horses rest." Thor bellows as the group comes upon a fine looking brook.

The Prince dismounts his steed. Bringing his horse to water, he ties the reigns around a good, thick branch. Letting his beast have a drink as he, too, bends to partake. Cupping his hands into the crystal clear waters before bringing them to his lips.

"Tis... warm." He complains, spitting the water back.

"Aye. You get used to it." Sigyn offers as she climbs down off her horse. "The ground beneath our feet burns hot with molten rock. Tis why Nidavellir is so well known for its forges. The core is like one big furnace. Perfect for smithing, but not so great for a refreshing dip."

"I beg to differ, m'lady." Volstagg groans as he slides from his mare, nearly falling in the process. "A nice, relaxing dip in the hot springs would do wonders for my aching bones." Popping his back, he adds. "Man wasn't meant to ride..."

"Nor was he ever meant to weigh as much as thee." Fandral smirks, tying his horse beside Thor's.

"How would you like it if I sat on you, then. Yeah?" Volstagg grins in return. "Show you the true merit of my mighty weight!"

As the pair of Warriors squabble, Hogun approaches Thor.

"We're losing daylight." He reminds. "We should seek out shelter before it gets dark."

Standing, Thor nods. He looks to Sigyn for her expertise of the terrain.

"Best we camp here in the forest for the night." She offers. "The closer we approach the mountain's base, the likelier for Trolls to spot our fire."

"Trolls?"

Loki's heart seizes in his chest. His veins freeze cold with ice. Tis that sinking feeling he gets at the sound of those horrid creatures by name. Those same horrid creatures which he _mayyyyy_ have slighted just ever so slightly.

"Afraid of Trolls, are we?" Sif teases.

Turning his nose up, the Trickster snorts.

Surely such lowly creatures have no means of communication between tribes. That the Trolls here in Nidavellir know not of the crimes he had committed in the high mountains of Asgard. That Loki had deceived their King and laid waste to their best and most fearsome warriors. Well, fine... To be fair, twas not _Loki_ who'd killed off their men, exactly. It was the Valkyrie, Freya. But they don't know that. Nor would they care to split hairs when they could verily split his skull instead.

Loki can feel Sigyn's eyes upon him. Judging him. Putting pieces into place, mayhap. For the love of all that is Loki, he certainly hopes not.

For all the girl knows, her mother died protecting Loki as her beloved Theoric from such creatures. That it be Trolls that took her life and not _him_. After all the pain of these past few days, he couldn't possibly live with her hating him any more than she already does now.

Sigyn opens her mouth to speak, and Loki half-expects her to ask THE question. To ask of him how, again, her mother died. To have him explain to her that day in the throne room. That day when the false Odin sat upon the throne and her Theoric stood before her, injured and broken from war. When her heart fell to pieces and she broke down in tears.

It feels like ancient history now. A past indiscretion he would have sooner left forgotten. But that's the problem with the past, isn't it? It never likes to stay where it belongs. Always finding new ways to sneak up on thee and bite you in the ass.

But much to his relief, Sigyn doesn't bring up her mother. Or Trolls. Or Theoric. Or anything else of great question. Instead, she returns the hood to her riding coat back atop her head, concealing herself as she sets out to leave.

"I think I'll scout ahead." She says. "Mayhap bring back something for supper."

Sitting on the shoreline with his feet soaking in the warm water, Volstagg pops his head up with a bright excitement.

"Did someone mention food?"

"Is that all you think of?" Sif complains

"Hey! Don't blame me." Volstagg whines in return. "Tis the ride that's left me famished!"

"I don't see how, given that you've managed to devour all our provisions in but a single day!"

"To keep up strength, of course! Can you not see how I'm wasting away?"

Before Loki even has a chance to offer, Fandral steps forward.

"Might you seek some assistance, m'lady?" He inquires. "Mayhap some strapping male companionship? The woods can be a scary place. I wouldn't want you to get lonely."

"And I wouldn't want you to chip a nail." Sigyn counters. "Besides, your _strapping male_ talents are best spent here, preparing the fire for my return."

She turns to Thor before setting out.

"I'll be back within the hour."

As Sigyn leaves, Hogun sets about the task of collecting kindling for a fire.

"You're wading deep in icy waters, my friend." He directs his attention towards Fandral.

Taking a seat on a fallen tree trunk, the Dashing pulls out his flask.

"I rather like it when they play hard to get." He says before taking a sip. "The greater the challenge, the more sweet the reward."

Looking over at a forlorn Loki, Hogun shakes his head.

"That's not what I meant."

Their words turn to background noise as Loki stands, watching as she becomes one with the forest. Until she completely disappears from sight and there's nothing left for him to see.

Thor comes over and rests a brotherly hand upon his shoulder.

"Let us begin on that fire."

* * *

Once far away from the camp, Sigyn can breathe freer. She lets down her hood and inhales the fragrant earthy scent of the forest. Of green leaves and moss, and warm, rich pine wood. Tis the scent of nature. Of life. And everything that's good.

Out here she can think clearer. She can rid her mind of him. Not Fandral. Guys like him she can handle. As are they easily dealt with. But Loki?

The entirety of the ride, she'd felt him staring. Even now, surrounded by nothing but trees and lifeless rock, she can feel him watching with those eyes... Those eyes that looked at her so kindly as he held her hand in his. Just as Theoric used to, back when they were one. Back when there was still love inside her heart instead of this bitter emptiness she feels inside.

Or so she keeps telling herself. That she is empty. That she feels nothing. That she is devoid of emotion. Devoid of everything but hate. Perfect. Just as mother made her. And yet... And yet even she can't deny that spark when he had touched her. That longing in her blood to feel his cold embrace. To have his arms wrapped tight around her. His flesh upon her flesh. His lips, like ice, covering every inch of her body. How her knees do quiver at the thought of his liar's tongue, a cool relief to the growing fire within. That warmth that burns with yearning, deep between her thighs.

There's a pressure building at the core of her. This pit inside her stomach which aches like nothing she has ever felt before. Like an itch desperate to be scratched, she's powerless to the sensation. Yearning for relief.

A chill races up her spine at the thought of him bending her over. Her whole body shivers. A thrill as he spreads her wide open. Whispering her name. "Sigyn... Sigyn..." Over and over again. A frigid breath inside her ear as he mounts her from behind. "Sigyn!" Louder as he rams his cold, hard Jotun cock deep inside her. Thrusting harder and harder and...

A twig snaps. The noise snapping Sigyn from her daydream. Grabbing one of the blades from the scabbard at her back, she twirls straight around to greet her assailant with a sword to the throat.

"Loki?" She exhales shaky with surprise.

Though she's admittedly relieved to see him and not some attacker, still, she doesn't lower her weapon.

"What are you doing here?" She hisses, catching her breath from the sudden surprise. The embarrassment of having been caught so tragically unaware. That, and because she can't shake the image of him stripped naked inside her head. "You've no right sneaking up on a lady like that!"

"Sneaking? I'd been calling your name for near a hundred yards now!" He defends, showing her his hands as he raises them to chest level in surrender. "Why did you not answer? And why are you all... red?"

She could feel it coming on. Her skin burns hot as all the blood rushes to the surface. It only gets worse the longer he stares at her. That sly, little smirk worming onto his lips as if he _knows_ why she is blushing. Like he somehow knows she'd been thinking of him. Like it's written in red all over her face.

"Shut it!" Sigyn snaps, trying to conceal and contain her flustered emotions. "I need not explain myself to you."

She shoves the blade further into his neck, pressed so tight against the skin that it draws blood. And yet, he just stands there with his hands raised. Still as a statue. Calm. Not fighting back.

"You're not going to kill me." Loki says so sure. Almost taunting as a bead of his own blood rolls smoothly down his throat.

"Oh, am I now?" Sigyn grits her teeth.

" _Nayyyyy_. Why, back inside the dungeon, when my life hung in the balance, you'd _saved_ me. Remember?" He practically sings. His voice so playful and light, they might as well be conversing over tea and not a sword to the jugular. "Why did you save me, by the way? When you want so bad to end me, why go through all the trouble of keeping me alive?"

Sigyn doesn't answer, just holds firm to the hilt of her sword. Her feet rooted to the spot. Steady and unwavering.

"You know what I think?" Loki begs the question. "I think that there's still something between us. This pull. This... _tension_. I think that you still _want_ me."

Sigyn scoffs.

"Aye. I want to kill you, is what I want."

Loki chuckles to himself, causing the tight skin of his throat to rub raw against her blade, but still, that doesn't stop him one bit.

"Is it now?" He asks with the slightest tilt of his head, but not enough to cause further injury. "Well, for all your talk, you haven't killed me _yet_. That has to mean for something."

"It means Thor still has use of you." She answers simply. "But once that use is no more..."

Pursing his lips, Loki shrugs.

"Still... You could have looked the other way. You could have let that _thing_ kill me. And for that, for NOT-not saving me, you have my humble thanks."

"Well, hold your thanks. I didn't save you as much as I'd stopped someone else from killing you, is all." She makes herself sound fierce. "Tis MY right to kill you. Not his or anyone else's. I was simply preserving my vengeance."

"Then what's stopping you, woman, from exacting such vengeance?" He asks, staring at the steel in his neck, then back to her. "Why do you hesitate?"

"I told you, already. Thor..."

Loki rolls his eyes.

"Thor's just your cover. A _lie_. And I of all people know a liar when I hear one." He cuts her off.

The Liesmith risks everything, especially his own neck, by reaching out to touch her. Gently placing his palm flat against her chest, right atop her heart. Just as Theoric had, not so very long ago.

He calls her bluff.

"You could tell me I'm wrong. Tell me it's all in my head. That I'm crazy." He begins. Nearly pleading. "But your heart speaks an entirely different story than the lies upon your lips. I can feel it. Tell me you don't feel it, too."

Beneath his fingertips, Loki can feel the cadence of her heartbeat. How it races despite such steely features. To him, her heart sings true.

"You could kill me now, you know. If you wanted. As far as Thor's aware, I'm still back at base camp. I'd left an illusion in my stead. He'd never know." His earlier wit and whimsy turns serious. He's no longer playing. "I could tell you where I'd stashed the old man. I'd gladly forfeit that information unto you and none other. I'd write it on a gods-damned map if you so like, just please..." Loki takes a deep breath, and taking hold of her wrist, aims the tip of her sword toward his heart. "Please, if you so wish to kill me, just _do it_ already. It would be a mercy than to endure the torment of another sleepless night without you gathered in my arms."

Tis a gamble, the game that he plays, but Loki calls her out. Laying his cards out on the table as he has. Offering unto her everything that she so desires. Odin. Her vengeance. His pound of flesh and more. All the while, his life hangs in the balance. Teetering on the scales of judgement as she contemplates his offer.

Sigyn says not a word as Loki slowly outstretches his arms on either side of him, making himself wide open. An easy target. Showing her that despite whatever choice she makes, he will not fight her. He'll accept the outcome, come whatever may.

Her eyes narrow on him. Focused. So piercing, tis almost as if she looks right through him. And that's when Loki starts to sweat. Mayhap he's made the wrong call.

Sigyn draws her arm back. Her weapon held high as if ready to attack.

Loki starts to panic. His eyes grow wide, staring at the blade as it starts to fall.

This was a bad idea, he tells himself. A stupid, stupid, bad idea.

And lo Sigyn brings the sword down with a mighty swing. Like an axe aimed right for his head.

"Nay... WAIT!" Loki cries as he hits the deck. Arms raised, covering his head in defense of her attack. But the attack is not meant for him.

The sharp blade connects with something large, but not with Loki. Instead, it connects with the beastly creature sneaking up behind them. Out on the hunt, with its sights set on making the pair its meal, starting with Loki first.

At his back, the thing's fangs were nearly just upon him when Sigyn struck first, laying her blade to rest in the strange creature's neck. Blood flies like rain as she slices straight through.

On the forest floor, Loki rolls onto his back just in time for the felled animal to fall right atop him. Half wild boar. Half wolf. Standing at the height of a full-grown man when on its hind legs. And just as heavy as one, to boot. Loki lets out a cry of surprise as the thing comes crashing down. The weight of it feeling as if it be Volstagg sitting on his chest. Not to mention, smelling just as bad, too.

"Skin it. Dress it. Then carry it back to camp." Sigyn instructs sternly. With a sharp flick of her sword, she removes the fresh blood from her weapon before returning it to its sheath. "You think you can manage that?"

Finding himself pinned beneath the massive creature's weight, Loki can do little more than grunt and groan his reply.

And without another word, she leaves him. Alone. Covered in stinking, dead wolf-swine. But he's alive. Marking twice, now, she's saved his sorry hide. As is it twice, now, she hadn't killed him. Even when given the means, motive, and opportunity. He'd practically begged, bribed her with Odin's location, and _still_ she would not. Which only means one thing.

Covered in gore, Loki rolls the dead thing off him and grins.

"Yeah... She wants me."


	39. Competition

**COMPETITION**

Draped upon his shoulders, Loki wears the fur to the creature Sigyn had slaughtered as he makes his way back. Dragging behind him the meat, gutted and cleaned, on a makeshift stretcher of pine branches he'd secured together with a grass-woven twine.

With a little smile on his lips, he can't help but feel like Father Christmas, in a sense. Such a silly Midgard notion, and yet, with that child-like look of glee on Volstagg's face at the sight of his bounty, how can he not?

There's a swell of joy inside Loki's chest. A strange feeling as of late. Not only in providing for his friends... Can he even call them that? _Friends?_ Mayhap compatriots? Teammates? Lessors with no reason to kill him as of yet? In either case, it feels good. And he has only her to thank for that.

Upon his arrival, Volstagg is busy with a stew. Heating a large, copper kettle of stream water and whatever bits and bobs that he could rummage. The root vegetables he'd harvested from along the waters edge. Herbs he'd found here and there about the trail. And a very special sprinkling of spices from the pouch he keeps with him always. One never knows when such culinary excursions might come along. Tis best to be prepared, lest ye be stricken with the ill-fortune of bland cuisine. Something the Voluminous simply won't stand for.

Dodging Thor's angry glare, Loki deposits his meaty bounty before Volstagg, who sets about sharpening his blade to dice a portion into neat, little cubes for the pot. The rest will be smoked and dried for the journey.

Hogun and Fandral are lounging about. Heads propped against the uprooted tree trunk, better used as a pillow. They warm their socked feet by the fire whilst passing a canteen of ale between them.

The girls are hardly chatting it up all sisterly-like. Biding their time with a little bit of friendly sparring. A harmless exercise of camaraderie and healthy competition.

And speaking of healthy competition...

Walking over to Fandral, Loki snatches the canteen from out of his grasp, just as the Dashing was about to take a sip.

"Hey!"

The Trickster takes a good, long swig before tossing him back his property.

"Doesn't sit so nicely, someone stealing what is yours." His taunting undertone hardly goes unnoticed. "Now does it?"

Taking a seat by his lonesome in the dirt, far from the fire and the rest of the group, Loki shrugs off his new fur and reaches deep inside his jacket, retrieving his very own flask to wash away the bitter taste of ale. A chance to take a load off as he waits for their vittles to finish with cooking.

The Liesmith reclines back on his elbows, sipping his spirits as he settles in to watch the women as they play. From his peripheral, he can sense Fandral staring. Loki turns his head and sure enough, he is. Raising his canteen in a toast, the Dashing offers him a crafty grin. No words need be said between them. The gesture, alone, says it all. Let the better man win.

Loki feigns a grin to match his, dissolving into a sneer, then takes another swig of his flask before returning his attention to the girls. As if there were really any competition between he and Fandral. Just as if there were any real competition between that of Sigyn and Sif. His woman is practically sweeping the floor with the poor Lady. Which makes it ever so much more fun to watch! Not that Loki isn't a fan of the good Lady Sif, but... _wellllll_... he's just not a fan.

Slicing through the air with her weapon, Sif swings at Sigyn, only for her hit to be deflected by one of Sigyn's blades, then knocked clean out of her hand with the other. Yet even though she's found herself unarmed, the Lady doesn't give up. Tis just not her way.

The pair of women circle each other slow, calculating the next move. Sizing up one another. Sif with no weapon and Sigyn with two. She twirls her twin swords, almost a tease to her opponent's misfortune. And then she strikes.

Sigyn swings low with her right, aiming for Sif's feet. A move which is easily avoided with the Lady's shield. What's not countered so easily is the next attack, slicing high with her left. And the next.

Left then right then left again. Low and high. A quick jab at her center throws Sif completely off balance. The girl's so light on her feet and swift with her barrage, tis hard to keep up a proper defense. And forget about an offense. Sif can't find a single opening.

Tis like a dance. Such a flawless orchestration of beauty and skill. Seamless if not for Sif being but a half-step behind.

Sigyn comes at her hard and fast with a strength deceiving of her smaller frame. She's not going easy on her fellow warrioress, nor would the Lady want it any other way. Pushing Sif further and further back until the moment's just right.

Dropping to her knees, Sigyn swings her body into a roundhouse, kicking out Sif's legs. The Lady loses her footing, falling hard on her back. But with a bit of quick-thinking, grabs hold of Sigyn on her way down, bringing the girl with her.

Ditching her weapons, the two start to tussle, rolling about and wrestling on the forest floor. Kicking up dirt as they roll round and round. Thus causing just about every single one of those red-blooded males in their company to stop and thoroughly take notice. Even Hogun sits himself upright. Spine a little straighter to get himself a better view. As does Fandral. As does Loki. Not that the Liar God wishes to be lumped into the same class as the ever-philandering Dashing. These sorts of things rarely amuse him. But watching Sigyn riding atop another. Her body twisting and writhing in such a glorious display. Well, it certainly has aroused his... _attention_. So to speak.

Thor was just about ready to march himself over to give his brother an earful about not sneaking off on his own again when he, too, stops right in his tracks. Unblinking as Sif lay sprawled out on her back. Sigyn's hands around the Lady's wrists, pinning her to the spot. Defeated.

Jaws hang so wide at their hinges, tis a wonder they don't fall right off. All except Volstagg's, who's far too involved with the food to take notice or care. And when the big man finally stands to announce that dinner is served, he can't for the life of him understand what has gotten them all so excited.

Sitting up on her knees atop Sif, Sigyn whips back her hair, offering the Lady a hand up as she stands.

"Well met! You make for a worthy opponent." Sigyn pants, raking her fingers through her dirty hair. "You fight valiantly. Like a true champion."

The two women clasp forearms in a sign of respect. To show there are no ill feelings in the outcome of this match.

"Aye, and you!" Sif returns enthusiastically. Tis been too long since she's matched steel against someone who understands the true thrill of the battle such as she. "By Odin's one eye, you _must_ tell me where you'd learned to fight! Do they have such an academy here on Nidavellir as they do in Asgard? Were there other girls there?"

A crowd gathers around her. Hogun in interest of the weapons she bears. As well as Fandral, who offers a swig of his ale. And an arm around her shoulders. How well Sigyn gets along with them all. Like a light attracting moths, the girl makes for quick friends. So unlike Loki, who never did quite fit in.

Always the outsider. So different than the rest. Too awkward. Too sensitive. Too quiet and reserved. He was never much good at making friends. Tis probably why he hasn't any at all. Why he'd clung so desperately to the one and only person who ever actually wanted to be his. That sweet little girl who'd wanted nothing more than to read beside him.

Loki knows all too well what it's like to be one of those moths. Basking in the sunshine of her love. To feel her radiance and light. And how cold the world can be when all that warmth is gone. When her light shines for him no more.

But he'd like to think he's gaining back that light. Little by little.

Climbing to his feet, Loki dusts the dirt from his slacks before making his way over to the fire to grab himself a bite to eat. He ladles himself a meager portion, as he's never been one for much food, but Volstagg objects. Taking hold of the ladle, the Voluminous insists on serving him more. A fair share.

Which is yet another strange notion. _Fair_.

When has anyone ever been fair to him, when all of life has been so completely cruel and not? And when has anyone ever cared? Yet that look in the jolly man's eyes yields an unknown softness towards Loki. Which is certainly a strange and uneasy feeling. For both parties.

"In the dog house, are we?" The Voluminous knows the feeling all too well. "Aye, I've been where you're standing but once or twice m'self. It gets better. Trust me. Just give her time."

Loki offers a small, uncomfortable smile in thanks.

He liked it so much better when they all hated his guts. At least it was so much easier then. They all knew their place. Their roles in this game. Now the line between hero and villain is blurred. There is no black or white, but only shades of grey.

"Here. Have another helping!" Loki tries to protest, but it's already too late. The big man pours yet another ladle-full. "Women like a man with some meat on his bones!"

Loki looks down at his bowl and grimaces. Tis far too much for him to eat. But that's what he gets, he supposes, for bringing the meat back to camp. Feed a fat man and suddenly he's your very best friend.

"Duly noted." He groans, eyeing his food.

And so he returns to his spot in the dirt to sup alone and in silence. Surprising himself by just how much he actually eats of his meal. Loki nearly licks the bowl clean, it's that good. Tis remarkable, really, what that man can do with what little they've got. Just the few sparse ingredients that the forest has provided. He's a genius when it comes to cooking. Too bad the same can't be said for much else.

Once finished, he places the bowl aside and lies down on his back, rolling up the fur and stuffing it beneath his head as a pillow. Just staring up at the tree branches above him. Past the rustle of the swaying leaves to the empty black of the night sky beyond.

Tis so peaceful out here. Not that he's much of the outdoorsman type. He's a Prince. Nay. A _King_. Better suited for a palace, not roughing it, as it were. And yet, there's something humbling in all this. Something pure. Which leaves him with a sense of contentment. A satisfaction he has never known, nor may he ever know again.

Though there is one thing, or better yet, one _person_ who would make it all the more complete.


	40. Sunshine

**SUNSHINE**

At her spot by the fire, surrounded by friends, Sigyn watches as Loki eats his meal alone then prepares himself for sleep. Her heart is so sad for him. Breaking, before she reminds herself that she feels nothing. Not sorrow, nor pity, or anything for him.

 _I know a liar when I hear one._

That he is nothing to her. Nothing but her prisoner awaiting his moment at the gallows.

 _You're not going to kill me._

So then why does it hurt her so terribly to look at him?

 _I think there's still something between us._

To even think of him?

 _This pull. This... tension._

She'd gone into the woods to clear her head, but all that she could picture, that she could think of, was him.

 _I think that you still want me._

Loki's in her thoughts always. Even now. He's never far. The more she tries to distance herself from him, the more she pushes him away, the more and more she... She can't even bring herself to say. To admit it. Not even to herself.

 _Tell me you don't feel it, too._

Sigyn misses him. Theoric. HER Theoric. But it was never really Theoric at all, now was it? Nay. It was Loki. Always Loki. Even from the start.

 _You're the day that I'm forever chasing. The light I've spent my whole life searching._

Who'd whisked her away from the ball and all those bad memories. From the ghosts of her past as they sat and they drank and looked out at the sea.

 _You are my everything._

Who'd taken her to their tower and held her in his arms, reading until she fell asleep.

 _Should I be so bold to say, I've found myself fallen in love with you._

Who'd asked her to marry him.

 _There's nothing to be confused about. It's really quite simple._

Who, on bended knee, bared to her his soul.

 _My Goddess. My Queen._

And, in turn, she gave to him her heart.

 _I will always return to you._

It was Loki. Always Loki.

 _You complete me._

Who had made her believe in love again.

 _My life has only just begun since I've found you._

Who taught her how to feel again.

 _I love you._

And it's killing her, inside.

 _My Sunshine._

A tear streams down her cheek.

"Are you okay?"

Thor's voice snaps her right back to reality. As has it brought a halt to all the feasting and merriment around the fire. They all stop in their actions, looking to her for an answer in which she has none.

It's then that Sigyn becomes aware of the wet sensation on her skin. She'd been so lost inside her thoughts, focused on the flame, she hadn't even realized she'd started to cry.

Wiping her face with the back of her hand, Sigyn plays it off cool.

"All's well." She lies with little effort. "I have something in my eye, is all. A spec of dirt from our tussle earlier. I'll go wash it out."

She picks up her finished bowl of stew.

"If you'll please excuse me."

Heading over to where the horses are resting, Sigyn rinses her bowl and splashes a bit of water on her face, hiding the evidence of where fresh tears had cut through all the dirt and the sweat, leaving bold streaks in their wake. Now all gone. Washed clean.

Feeling a bit more refreshed, she then goes to her horse to return the bowl to her saddle bag. But upon lifting the leather flap, she notices something peculiar. Something that doesn't belong. A medium-sized rectangle, about the size of her hand, but more like a brick of sorts. Tis wrapped in an ecru-colored paper and tied with a scrap of black leather. Like a present.

Staring at it strangely for a moment, Sigyn knows it wasn't there whence last she looked. And she certainly hadn't packed it. Whatever _it_ is.

There's a small part of Sigyn that tells her not to pick it up. Not to open it. She knows damned well just who it's from. And that if she didn't care, really didn't care for him, that she would forget all about it. Just close the bag and walk away. Return to the fire.

Behind her, she can hear Volstagg return to his story. His telling of their escape from the dungeon for the umpteenth time. Each retelling adds a new twist. More soldiers to the count. More danger. A much more harrowing escape. Fandral laughs and Hogun joins him. It sounds like they're all really enjoying themselves. And she should be, too. But her feet are fixed to the spot. Her eyes set on the bundle at the bottom of her pack. She just can't help herself.

Her hand reaches in and pulls it out. By the faint light of the fire behind her, Sigyn can just make out the fact that there are words inked on the paper wrapping. She holds it closer to her face to read.

 _The other night dear, as I lay sleeping_  
 _I dreamed I held you in my arms_  
 _But when I awoke, dear, I was mistaken_  
 _So I hung my head and I cried._

 _You are my sunshine, my only sunshine_  
 _You make me happy when skies are gray_  
 _You'll never know dear, how much I love you_  
 _Please don't take my sunshine away_

Covering her mouth, Sigyn has to physically force herself to keep from giggling aloud.

Her eyes shoot over to where Loki lays to make sure he isn't watching. Which he isn't, thank goodness. Or at the very least, pretending not to as he plays asleep.

Tis such a corny gesture, one would never think to accuse Loki of committing such an adorable act. That a murderous tyrant could ever be so sweetly natured. A man of the Frost to be so remarkably warm in heart and soul. Or the biggest arsehole in the galaxy to be so gosh darned, freaking cute. At times. But they don't know Loki like she does. Or that is, like she used to.

While the note itself isn't signed, there's no question as to who the giver might be. Sigyn knows that perfectly privileged penmanship, anywhere. Not to mention, Loki's cute little pet name for her. Sunshine. But the final nail in the coffin? The reason she knows without a doubt the gift came from Loki and none else? Not Fandral or Thor or anyone other? The answer lies inside.

Sigyn unwraps the package to find a block of chocolate inside. Bitter and dark, just as she likes it. And just like how the late Queen used to pack for her at the end of every summer.

No one knows about that. Not even her own mother. It was a secret shared by only she and Frigga. Sigyn hadn't ever told another living soul except for that of Theoric. Who, now she knows was really Loki all along.

Returning the chocolate to its wrap, Sigyn hides the bundle back inside the bottom of her pack. As does she hide a small, secretive smile in the dark cover of night. Tying the black, leather strap around her wrist as she makes her way back to the fire.


	41. Appetite For Destruction

**APPETITE FOR DESTRUCTION**

The Enchantress sits upon her usurped throne. An imposing force, as cold and lifeless as her black and withered soul.

Two subjects bow before her. The Einherjar. Soldiers of Asgard. Though they do not bow of their own free will, but instead that of the magic cast upon them. Upon them _all_.

The whole of Asgard belongs to her now. Her _and_ her sister, Lorelei, she supposes. The throne. Their army. This whole blasted rock in the empty void of space. Everything.

But that's hardly the endgame, now is it? Nay. Asgard is only the beginning.

"Status?" Amora groans, lazily reclined in her seat.

Humbly keeping his eyes to the floor, one of the soldiers presents his report.

"We've tracked the insurgents to Nidavellir, my Queen." He begins respectfully. "They'd taken shelter for the night before moving on."

"Shelter?" Amora inquires with little interest, smoothing out the creases in her dress. She won't even afford the man the proper attention.

"Our information tells us the domicile belonged to that of civilians, m'lady. A family of Dwarves." He elaborates. "The home to the late Sir Ivaldi and his sons."

"And one daughter." Amora is quick to add, abruptly stopping in her idling. Sharp as daggers, her eyes shoot right toward him. "The same that we've been searching for. That YOU and your men let ESCAPE."

The soldier nods to the floor, groveling even lower should that even be possible. He curses himself for his stupidity. For failing his Mistress yet again.

"Aye, my Queen. Sorry, my Queen."

Amora sighs and returns to reclining in her throne.

She can't for the life of her come to understand what is so grand about this silly seat of metal and stone, anyway? What the disgraced Loki could possibly want with such a useless, boring thing?

Is it the adoration that comes with it? The power? Clearly the little Giant thinks too small. A consequence pertaining to his stunted height, mayhap. For if it is true power that he seeks, then he knows not what such a thing as power really means.

The Trickster so fully believes himself to have dined at the table of Kings. That he has drunk his fill of true and righteous power. He knows not even the _taste_. For all the power that this throne pretends to uphold, it is but an object. And a terribly uncomfortable one at that.

"And where are our lovely rebels now?" Amora moans as she yet again repositions herself.

"My men are tracking them through the forest, as we speak, m'lady, but don't expect they've traveled very far." He seeks to redeem himself. "A day's worth. Mayhap less. We're closing in as fast as our ships can carry."

"I want it done faster." Amora directs.

"Of course, my Queen."

A tour of war on Midgard and a little insurrection and suddenly Loki thinks himself above that of mortal men. That he's somehow greater than they, when the sad truth of the matter is that _all_ men are created equal. As do they die equally the same. Sorry worthless dogs. Weaklings, the lot of them.

"And what of the Ivaldisons?" She sneers as if disgusted by the name. The acrid way the word sticks inside her mouth. "Those disgustingly dull little Dwarves?"

"No survivors, m'lady." He replies eagerly. "As per your orders."

Amora grins.

"Very good, _um_... What's your name, again?" She waves her hand in the air, instantly dismissing the thought. "Oh, tis not important."

His name is useless. As is he and all men like him. They are nothing but tools. Useful for a purpose. And once that purpose has been fulfilled, when that usefulness is over, then all that's left is to throw them all away.

"Tell your men to pillage their weapon stores. Take whatever they deem useful enough to carry. Then, burn the rest." Amora orders. "I want the realms wiped clean of her bloodline, do you hear me? Leave not a trace."

"Aye, my Queen."

"Make this a lesson, a warning to any who may open their homes or bring aid in any way. To any who dare oppose the Queen All-mother. May they, too, share in the same fate." She decrees empty-heartedly. "Loki and his band of miscreants have no home now to return to. In Asgard or in Nidavellir. And I will bring death across the cosmos, a trail of blood lain in their wake, til I have claimed my satisfaction. NOW GO! Relay my orders to your troops."

With an outstretched arm, Amora points to the grand throne room doors, granting the soldier his leave. Eager to win back the favor of his Queen, the soldier does exactly as he's told, jumping to his feet in a hurry to return to his post.

"Oh, and one more thing." The Enchantress calls out to her toy soldier, instantly stopping him in place, just as he was about to exit. "Disappoint me and I'll skin you myself."

"Aye, my Queen. I give you my solemn word. My men and I, we shall not let you down."

And with a courteous bow, he's off down the hall. Fast as if his life depends on it. Because it verily does.

Swinging her legs up and over an armrest, Amora drapes herself about the throne like a throw. Her silken hair falling in golden waves down one side. Her body melting right into the cold, stiff marble.

There's a smile on her lips at the soldier's parting words. A joke since she's never known a man yet to have never let her down. As does it seem their way. Men are nothing but great, big disappointments in the end. Such a pity to their species, really. At least they're quite pretty to look at from time to time.

The second Einherjar remains in place. Frozen with his eyes to the floor, he hasn't as much as moved a muscle since she'd called upon him. Awaiting his turn to address his most beloved Queen.

"And what news have you brought me?" The Enchantress turns her attention to her other soldier boy.

At her request, this one pulls forth his shield, where inside lies a mirror the full width and circumference. He stands and holds it forth so she may view it from the position where she lay.

Within the scrying mirror, the contents swirl, revealing a form on the other side. Lorelei. Looking as exuberant as ever, despite the harsh conditions of the terrain.

"Sister, dear." Amora greets the transmuted image. "Tell me, how do you fair?"

From opposite the glass, the image speaks.

"Well, sister mine." Lorelei gushes, her voice like warm syrup. "I've made so many new friends, here. And what lovely fun we've had! My hosts have been more than accommodating. They yearn so terribly to please me, really. Especially their King. Oh, he enjoys it so _rough_ and _hard_ , I'd thought I'd been rutted by the very mountain! And you should see the stones on him. Literally! Stones! Why they're as hefty and bulging as boulders. I -"

Feeling the bile rise in the back of her throat, Amora holds up her hand to stop Lorelei from going into any further detail.

"By the Gods, sister." Clearly revolted, the Enchantress interrupts Lorelei just as her little sister finds herself becoming carried away. "They're not even men. They be CREATURES!"

"They have men _parts_." Lorelei smirks with a raised brow. "And besides, I see little difference between man and beast. Are they not creatures, ALL?"

Amora rolls her eyes.

"While you may have a point, that still doesn't change the fact I'd not sent you to play and have fun." She chides.

"Ever hear the expression, all work and no play?" Lorelei sighs breathily. "A job is hardly worth taking if it's no fun at all. I find _joy_ in my work. Tis hardly a crime in that, is there, dear sister?"

Through the looking glass, the two sisters stare.

Amora will never learn to comprehend her younger sibling. Her little sister, Lorelei. How she seduces hearts. Going through men like one would water. Ever on a quest. This incessant longing for love. That cruel and wretched feeling that only ever does more harm than good. But the more and more she takes unto her bed, the more and more lonely she will only just become. For no amount of love can ever fill that empty heart of hers. As love was never meant for Lorelei. Or Amora. They are the loveless.

And yet she'll just keep trying. Hoping that with each new lay that she will find her prince at last. That she will be _complete_ at last.

Tis sad, really. Lorelei is a practice in futility.

"Your appetite for the flesh is disturbing, sister mine." The Enchantress groans.

"As does your appetite for destruction disturb me." The Seductress does grin. "But worry not. Despite my fun, of which you so disprove, I can assure you, I've kept true to my mission. As promised, our new allies are primed and eager for blood."

"Good." Amora extends her accolades. "Then I take it you've fully infiltrated the Rock Trolls' numbers?"

Lorelei laughs.

"Did you ever doubt?" She scoffs. "Trolls are such dull and simple creatures. As are ALL men. Like I said, there is no difference. Beast or man, they all belong to me."

And yet, despite her futile quest for love, a real love in which she'll never find, Lorelei is not without her usefulness. And talents she has many. The swaying and breaking of hearts especially.

"I've my men on their trail, tracking them through the forest." Amora broadcasts through the glass. "They approach the Iron Highlands."

"Then I will ready my men." Lorelei confirms. "We'll await your order to strike."

"The very moment Loki's in our sights..." Amora trails.

"Ohhh... He will suffer gloriously." Lorelei is more than happy to fill in where she'd left off.

And so the Enchantress grins. Wide. A sight seldom shown by the Queen of Destruction, but a frightening one, at that. The sort of look that sends chills up one's spine, and not in a good way. Tis ominous. For-telling of the end.

"As will they all..." She smiles to herself as the picture fades out.

The bewitched soldier lowers his shield. Now that the transmission has ended, there's no point to him any more. And so he just stands there, staring blankly into space. Awaiting his next order. Yet another tool that's lost its purpose.

"As will they all."

The Trolls aren't the only ones with an eagerness for blood. For the thrill of the kill. That look on one's face as all light leaves their eyes. Amora yearns so great for _action_. Not the dirtying of her own hands, of course. But for the greatest seat in the house as the worlds fall below her. And this sorry seat is hardly the throne in which she seeks. But soon. Very soon. Until then, the Enchantress supposes she'll have to continue to endure this boredom.

Sure, there's a great many things she could do right now. If she were Lorelei, Amora knows exactly what she'd do. Or namely, _who_. There are no lengths this toy won't go about to please her. And yet, she wants none of it. None of _him_. Unlike her sister, Amora fancies no delusions that her wants and needs can be quelled. Ever. Not even for blood. But for the sake of passing the time, mayhap she'll make an exception.

On her back, Amora lifts her feet high into the air, pointing her toes to the ceiling and bringing her body into that of an L shape. The material to her dress slides scandalously down her thighs as she runs her hands smoothly up and down her long, white legs, revealing the honey pot between.

And yet, the Einherjar takes no notice. She could very well pleasure herself in front of him and he wouldn't even care. As is a tool without its handler. There's no life to him. No spark.

"Do you want me?" Amora asks of her toy. Her voice sweet as honey to the fly.

"Aye, my Queen."

Bringing her knees down to her chest, she pushes out her grand, luscious breasts. Making herself, her body, ever more inviting.

"How badly do you want to make your queen happy?"

"More than anything, m'lady."

Her grin only widens at the thought. She bites at her lip in anticipation. Hard enough to draw blood. Her excitement is only building. Warm and wet in all the most yummy of places. As can she readily see _his_ excitement building.

Amora sits herself upright, legs open wide to either side of her throne. The entranced soldier approaches, his eyes glazed with magic and lust as he nestles himself between her thighs. Awaiting his next order.

Digging her clawed fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, the Enchantress gives her little toy soldier the attention he verily deserves. Gripping the back of his head tight as she pulls him down to suck and bite at the exposed flesh of his throat. Playing with her food, just before the kill.

"Would you die for me?" The Enchantress breathes hot into his ear.

"Of course, my Queen." He says resolute. "Without question."

With a gravely rumble in her throat, she purrs, "Prove it."

And lo, the poor useless tool takes his very own sword to his chest.


	42. Best Friends Forever

**BEST FRIENDS FOREVER**

For any child, tis always frightening being away from home for the first time. Another house. Another bed which is not yours. The sights. The sounds. Even the smells are all so different and new. And strange.

For Sigyn, a young girl of seven, _everything_ seems so terribly unfamiliar. Which can be a very scary thing.

Where her home is quaint and lively, this palace is so cold and large. Built of more rooms than a small mind can even count. She imagines it would likely take days, nay, _years_ should she set about the task of trying to discover each and every one.

The entirety of her bedroom chamber at home would likely fit inside this one single bed, alone. And the whole of her little cottage inside the room in which she's been assigned.

Tis all too grand, too vast and overwhelming. Which only makes the poor girl feel all the more lost and out of place.

Sigyn misses her brothers. The sounds of their laughter. Of them toiling through the night in the furnaces below. As does she miss all the other night sounds. That of the animals in the wood. The howl of the wind as it rips down the mountain side, shaking the trees whilst it roars through the valley.

Here, there's only silence. Deafening silence as all the city sleeps, save her. The palace, here, rests as dead and quiet as a tomb.

How she'd begged her Papa not to bring her here. To take her with him as he'd traveled far for work this season and not leave her in this place. Father Ivaldi simply smiled and assured her all would be well. That there's a rich history between their two families, and it's important that she come to understand her duties to that bond. A concept she wouldn't fully grasp until she'd grown much, much older. To learn just what such duties to one's family even means.

And besides, it would be good for her, he'd said. Her elder brothers were much older than the little Ivaldidottir. Always busy with their own work, they made for poor playmates. And being a half-breed, very few of the other Dwarven children cared to let her join them in their games.

It would be good for her to get out and stretch her wings, so to speak. To meet new people and make new friends. Nidavellir made for a lonely existence, he'd told her. That she was meant for so much more. But now that she's in Asgard, why does she feel now more alone than ever?

Tis as if the walls are closing in on her. Swallowing the poor little lass in their treacherous black silence. Drawing the covers up under her chin, her insides are screaming at her to get up. Get up and leave now! She can't stay here but a single second longer.

With tears in her eyes, Sigyn jumps out of bed. She bursts from the doorway, racing down the hall as quick and light as her little feet can carry. The sound of her bare toes slapping against the cold, marble flooring echoes off the walls as she runs to someplace safe. Someplace she knows not even where.

She thinks to go find All-mother Frigga. To sneak into her and Odin's chambers and crawl into their bed. Just like she would with Papa after having a bad dream. But the more she runs, the more she realizes she doesn't know where she is going. And the more she realizes she doesn't know where she's going, the more and more frantic she becomes.

Frigga had taken her on a tour of the palace earlier, but now, in the midst of panic and terror, she hasn't a clue which way is up. She feels so terribly turned around.

Sigyn feels so close to crying now. Like giving up and curling into a ball in the middle of the hallway. She'd promised her father she'd be strong. That she could do this. But now she doesn't think she can. She hates this place, the girl thinks to herself. All she wants to do is go home. And she hasn't even made it through a single night.

Hearing another pair of footsteps from further down the hall, around the bend, makes Sigyn freeze completely solid. Her heart skips. Her stomach lurches. Petrified at the thought of being caught outside her chambers.

Tis likely only a palace guard, but still, everyone's a stranger to her in this place. Nor does she want to get in trouble. For Odin to have to tell her father that she hadn't been a good girl and proper guest. That she hadn't followed the rules. Or worse, for him to have to explain to her mother that she'd been made weak and frightened. And by something as silly as nothing at all.

With her little heart beating as fast as a drum, Sigyn bolts for the nearest door. Hoping against all hope, it isn't locked. Which, thank Odin, it isn't.

Once inside, she slams the door behind her. Still as a corpse. Holding her breath as she listens for the sound of the guards footfall, only for it to be drowned out by the roar of her own heartbeat thundering on inside her head.

Sigyn's never been more terrified. Imagining the guard is right outside the door, ready to burst inside and catch her at any moment.

The girl doesn't even lend a moment to let her eyes adjust to the darkness. Bolting from the door, she quickly dashes for the nearest hiding place. Throwing herself underneath the covers of a bed without any concern for the occupant already inside.

Loki wakes with a start. Eyes shoot wide open at the strange sensation tickling at his feet. It feels as if there's some sort of animal rooting around down there. And a big one at that, right at the foot of his bed.

Thor's playing a trick on him, he immediately thinks. But as sleep begins to shed and wake reclaims his mind, the little Trickster remembers that he's the prankster of the family, not Thor. And while it may be a good bit of mischief, he certainly hadn't tricked himself.

Using his big toe, Loki nudges at it, whatever it is, hoping to evacuate the pest from out of his bed. But there's no luck there. So he decides to up his game, giving the thing a good kick in what he can only suppose is its head. But that doesn't fair so well either. The little boy yelps as the creature sinks its teeth right into his leg.

Loki's done playing games, now. Set to get to the bottom of all this, the little Prince grabs hold of the covers and rips them from the bed in one swift motion. Revealing not an animal underneath, not a creature, but a girl. _That_ girl.

"Sigyn?"

Loki stares at her in a state of confusion.

He's only known Sigyn for a couple hours, now. They'd met but earlier today. Introductions were made. He made her cry. Clearly, no surprise there. But then she'd miraculously forgiven him. An act which is rather unusual whenever the little Liesmith is involved. Even more unusual is the fact that she'd forgiven him enough to actually want to be his _friend_. The girl's a rather unusual one. There's something quite different about her. Not to mention, she sure is rather pretty. Suffice to say, Loki was smitten on the spot.

But that still doesn't answer...

"Why'd you bite me?" He has so many questions, but that's the first to blurt out.

"Why'd you kick me?" She returns, rubbing at her head.

Mayhap the better question would be...

"What are you doing in my bed?"

Sigyn looks down at the mattress. Her fingers nervously twirling at her white-gold hair.

"I... I've never been away from home before..." Sigyn trails.

The young girl nibbles at her lip. She can't bring herself to say the rest.

"And you're frightened." Loki finishes her sentence. Saying what she cannot.

Tucking a strand of hair behind her cute, little pointed ears, Sigyn nods.

"Please don't tell anyone about this." She pleads. "I don't want it getting back to my Mother."

"I won't." Tis not a lie. "As long as you don't tell my Father of this, either. I'm sure he'd have something to say on the matter of having a girl in my chamber. Especially after hours and unsupervised."

"Why?" Sigyn asks confused.

"Tis just how grownups are, is all. With their rules and such. That's just the way it is." He shrugs. "Brother got in trouble with a girl, once. I remember Father was furious. He said it is highly improper."

"Why?"

Feeling a little self-conscious at all her questions, Loki pulls his knees up to his chest, concealing his string bean legs inside the oversized sleepshirt he's wearing. Tis not the most appropriate attire to wear before a Lady, especially a Lady which he likes, which only makes him all the more timid.

"I don't know. Something about babies?"

Sigyn squinches up her nose at him. She hasn't a clue what he's going on about. As a girl, she's been in her brothers rooms plenty of times and has never once gotten in trouble. And she's certainly never heard any nonsense about babies.

"What does one have to do with the other?" The girl asks most naive.

"Beats me. But he seemed rather cross." Loki replies with another shrug. "I think... I think tis because when a man and woman are alone together, and they love each other very much, they remove all their clothes, and... and then the man lies on top of the woman, and they kiss, and then that makes a baby. Or something like that..."

"What?"

Okay. Now he's completely lost her.

"Tis something Fandral said." Loki mumbles. "Forget it."

The little boy stares down at his toes peeking out through the bottom of his night shirt, giving them a wiggle. He purses his lips, racking his brain as to what to say next.

"You don't want to take your clothes off, do you?"

"What!? Nay!"

"Yeah... Me neither." The little Prince returns quickly, hugging at his knees. "So... What would you like to do, then?"

Sigyn looks down at the mattress again, rubbing up and down the length of her small, frail arm anxiously.

"Might I stay here with you?" She peeps in a tiny voice. "Just for tonight. If that's alright..."

"Well, sure!" Loki beams earnestly, immediately animated at the suggestion. "We'll make it a sleepover! And in the morning, I'll have the kitchen prepare us pannekaken with fresh berries and jam!"

There's something about him that instantly puts her mind at ease. That she's so instinctively drawn to.

Mayhap it's the sweet way his eyes sparkle in the moonlight. Or that big, bright smile of his that cuts straight through the darkness. Blotting out the night like a hundred-thousand stars.

Whatever it is, he chases all her fears away. To Sigyn, Loki feels like home.

Politely covering her mouth with her hand, Sigyn giggles, causing Loki's smile to fade. The young Prince doesn't much like being laughed at. A ridicule he's learned to grow accustomed to in the presence of his older brother, Thor, but wasn't expecting it from _her_. Tis about to break his heart when suddenly she pounces for him, knocking the little Trickster backwards on the bed.

With a great big smile of her own, little Sigyn hugs at Loki's waist. Her head resting atop his tiny, narrow chest as she giggles.

"Thank you!"

For a moment, he's not sure how to react. He's never been hugged like this before. But he likes it. It feels so nice. And warm. And right.

Tucking the top of her head beneath his chin, Loki wraps his arms around her and holds her tight. Giving her slender frame a little squeeze as a smile returns to his lips.

"You're welcome." He whispers in her hair.

His little body feels so cool to the touch. Tis refreshing in this summer heat. And the smell of him, so clean. It reminds her of an orange, freshly sliced. So crisp with but a little hint of spice.

And books.

He smells of a whole library of books. Pages upon pages, bound in secrets and mysteries untold. Wrapped in rich, warm leather and inked of mischievous delights.

He's a story. The kind one cannot put down, no matter how hard one tries. And even at this bright young age, Sigyn knows it to be true. Here, right now, and forever. She's stuck with him until the very end.

"Are you and I friends?" Little Loki asks her shyly.

"Aye." Sigyn answers sweetly to his chest.

"Would you... Would you care to be my best friend, then? Best friends _forever_?" He asks excitedly.

Sigyn turns her head so that her chin is now resting atop his chest. Her shining eyes staring right up at him.

"Of course!" She smiles. "Only if you promise to be mine."

Nodding, he smiles right back to her and Sigyn returns to lying her head on his little chest, listening to the soft rhythm of his heartbeat through his thin cotton shirt.

"I think I'm going to like it here." She says softly, finding comfort and safety here with him.

Sigyn's forgotten all about whatever had frightened her so. It seems so silly now.

"Would you tell me a story?" She asks.

"Tis too dark to read." He replies, staring at his bedside lamp. Sure, he can light it, but that might attract attention. Something he surely doesn't want.

"Then make something up." Sigyn playfully tugs at his shirt. " _Pleeeeeease_?"

Holding her tight, Loki chuckles at her whining.

"Um... Okay, okay. How about this?" He begins. "There once was this magpie, right? With feathers as black as midnight and more cunning than the slyest fox in all of Asgard."

"What was his name?" Sigyn interrupts.

"Oh? _Uhh_... Ikol!" Loki comes up with on the spot.

"That's a silly name..." She teases.

"Shush! Do you want me to tell you a story or not?" Loki scolds, causing Sigyn to button her lip into a pout. "Anyway, he was such a naughty little bird that all the others in his flock rejected him, calling him a thief and liar for all his cheeky tricks. And so the lonely magpie was content to spend the rest of his days alone."

" _Awww_... Poor Ikol!" Sigyn yawns.

"Yeah, but then one day a beautiful white dove came about and graced him with her presence. The pair became fast friends. He even built a nest for her. Lining it with soft feathers and filling it full of all sorts of shiny treasures and trinkets in hopes to mayhap one day catch her eye. And then..."

Loki stops. He can feels her soft, warm breath tickling at his neck. The gentle roll of breathing in his ear.

"Sigyn?" He asks, straining his neck to see. "Sigyn are you awake?"

Her body lays slack against him, drifted off to sleep within his arms. Smiling, Loki unwraps himself from around her and places her head down gently on the pillow. The little boy then gathers back up all the covers that he'd ripped from the bed and sets to tucking her in, careful not to wake her as he stacks the blankets high.

There's a happiness in his heart as he tends to her. This warmth that blooms from the inside, out. Filling his chest with all sorts of new and nice sensations. Sensations such as love. And satisfaction.

Laying down beside her, atop the covers as he likes to sleep at a cooler temperature anyhow, Loki stares into her face, so peaceful with rest. Smiling as he brushes her hair back, tucking it behind one of her pointed Dwarven ears.

"And then..." He whispers, picking up where he'd left off. "And then one day they get married and make little baby birdie eggs and.. and rule high over the skies of Asgard as King and Queen of all of feathered creation! _Together_."

Loki closes his eyes and yawns.

"And they lived happily ever after." He murmurs as he drifts away on wings of sleep to join her. "The end..."

* * *

 _ **A/N: Shoutout to Ikol! Can you tell, I miss the comic book versions of Kid Loki and Ikol so hard! Reviews pretty please, with lots of sugar and fresh picked berries and jam on top! (mmm... I think I'm gonna have to go make some** **pannekaken now...)**_ _**xoxo**_


	43. Little Sister

**LITTLE SISTER**

First her thoughts and now her dreams. Nothing is safe from Loki's reach. Not even her most cherished memories.

So funny to think they were ever so small. So innocent and naive. Children free of responsibility. Of the burden of one's duty and one's family. The daily struggles for acceptance. For purpose. That crushing weight of all the worlds. And of the crown.

They've grown so much since those simple days. As have they changed. And yet the more things change, right? The more things ought to stay the same. Or so they say.

Sigyn wakes refreshed. Warm, despite sleeping on the ground amid the elements. So cozy and comfy, wrapped up in a thick cocoon of happy, snuggly goodness.

It takes a moment for her mind to process where she is. To remember that they're on the run from Asgard, off in search of Odin who can hopefully set all this terrible mess right. That they'd stopped for the night. Made camp in the forest of Nidavellir. And that warm and cozy happiness she's experiencing? Tis the feel of a blanket wrapped all around her. Well, a big, thick fur and a heavy, leather jacket, to be exact.

Still groggy with sleep, Sigyn opens her eyes to the dying embers of their fire. Taking a moment to let them adjust, for colors and shapes to come into focus.

She notices Loki's jacket lain atop her has been torn, missing a strip of leather at the hem. Tis the same that he had used to tie around the little gift that he had left for her, the bar of bitter chocolate. The same that she now wears secured around her wrist.

First her thoughts and then her dreams, indeed. Tis no great mystery that next he sets his sights to claim her heart. Not an easy win, but worth the challenge, sure. Yet even Sigyn knows, as she twirls the bracelet round her arm, she may as well be as good as won, yet.

Across the coals, Sigyn spies Thor sitting awake and wonders if he's sat guard all night with any relief. He pokes at the ashes, spreading them around with a stick, before noticing she's awake as well. And with a big, goofy grin, he offers her a tired smile.

Everyone else is still sleeping, even the sun, as Sigyn rises from her crude bed of leaves and grass. Glaring death at the tiny rock that had been poking her in the spine all night as she gathers up the pelt and jacket to go return them back to their proper owner. Loki.

Far from the group and the last remnants of the fire, the Mischief God slumbers alone. Snoring softly as his body rests propped against a tree, pointed in the direction from where she'd been sleeping. One of his daggers held loosely in his hand.

After blanketing her, Loki must have appointed himself guard. He'd watched over her, protecting her as she slept, before falling victim to sleep, himself.

His head lies slumped forward, practically in his lap. His raven-black hair covering his face. Sigyn kneels down beside him, fixing his position as to make him more comfortable before placing the makeshift blankets back atop him. Returning his kindness by tucking him in just as he did to her.

Moving his hair away from his face, she can't help but think how innocent he looks. Just like back when they were children. Just like how she remembers him. Back before the world turned cruel. Before he'd brought half an Earthen city to its knees and made his name synonymous with evil.

Where did it all go wrong? She wishes they could have stayed children forever. And not whatever it is that they are now.

Standing, Sigyn makes her way back to the fire which Thor is currently busy trying to build back up. Throwing a bit of kindling onto it so he can warm a pot of water as to make himself a little instant coffee. Something that he's grown quite reliant on during his stay in Midgard.

"Not a word." Sigyn warns.

She'd hoped he hadn't been paying attention to her interaction with his sleeping adopted younger brother, but judging by that sneaky little smirk curling up at the corner of his unshaven lip, surely he had, and no doubt has something to say about it.

"Not a word." Thor returns, offering the good Lady his promise.

Like he really needs to say anything at all. That little smirk turning into a big, wide, knowing smile speaks _volumes_.

"Shut it!" Sigyn huffs.

"I didn't _say_ anything!"

"Nay, but that look on your face..."

"And what look would that be?" He grins wildly at her, just to drive her crazy. Adding for extra measure _one_ word. One word that manages to perfectly sum up everything he wants so bad to say. "Lillesøs."

His nickname for Sigyn. Meaning little sister in Norwegian tongue, one of many Midgardian languages. Something he'd grown quite fond of calling her ever since he'd tasked himself with breaking the news to her of his brother's passing, the _first_ time. Because in his head and in his heart, she'd always belonged to Loki. Sigyn was as good as family to Thor, by law and by bond, even if she and Loki had never officially wed. She was his blood. His responsibility to look out for and protect in the name of his late brother. Tis why he'd been so against her engagement to Theoric in the first place. Funny how things turn out.

Sigyn narrows her eyes on the Odinson. A look that playfully screams I'll stab you in the brain if you speak a word of this to anyone, causing Thor to stare down at the dirt and laugh.

She leans down to give the smiling lug a kiss on the forehead.

"I'm going to wash up." She informs him. "Be back in a few."

"You sure you wouldn't rather wait for Sif to wake and join you?" He asks, concerned for her safety. As if he really thought that he could ever change her mind. Realizing his folly, he sighs long and hard. "Please be careful."

And so she mounts her horse and rides.

* * *

" _Auch_... This mead's gone bad!"

"That's because it isn't mead." Hogun replies in an even tone. "Tis coffee."

"Well, whatever it is, it tastes awful!"

Sitting by the small fire, Hogun, Thor, and Volstagg partake in the humble morning ritual of freshly brewed coffee.

The sun is just beginning to peek through the branches, warming the slate-grey sky with blazing shades of fiery amber and little hints of lavender by the time that Loki wakes.

His first thoughts are of Sigyn. He can almost smell her, faint and lingering about him like a shadow. Opening his eyes, he realizes she'd returned his coat to him. That and the fur he'd blanketed her with the night before. Holding now her sweet and earthy scent.

With the heels of his palms, Loki rubs the sand from his eyes. Giving a good groan and a yawn as he stretches out his sore muscles from the awkward position in which he'd slept.

She must be awake already, he thinks to himself. But when he lifts his gaze to search the camp, she isn't anywhere at all. And so he starts to panic.

Loki jumps to his feet, kicking up dirt as he trips forward and catches his balance.

"Sigyn..." He croaks, his voice still hoarse from sleep. He clears his throat and starts again. "Where is she?"

"Calm yourself, brother." Thor bellows from his seat nearby. "She'd just gone to wash and will be back shortly."

"What of women bathing?" Fandral chimes in with a moan, rolling in the grass as he stirs himself awake.

As is now the whole camp awake. Sif sits upright, massaging at the crick in her neck.

"How can you expect me to be calm when all of Asgard is against us?" Loki growls with urgency.

"We don't know that for certain." Thor maintains a voice of reason. A strange feeling to have become the more sensible brother. "And besides, she can handle herself fine."

"Aye. Because the last time you'd said that, it worked out so well, now didn't it?" Loki recalls with a touch of spite. "Or do you not remember Sif having to stitch her back together?"

"It was merely a flesh wound." Sif argues. She doesn't much care for Loki dragging her into this. The conversation _or_ this lovely journey.

Loki stares at the gang of so-called heroes and sneers.

"Fine." He grumbles. "Since you all care so little, seems I'll have to be the one to go get her."

"Loki..."

Lowering his tankard of coffee, Thor stands with a tired groan.

"Tis not that I don't care, Loki." He calmly approaches his brother whilst the Trickster is busy readying his horse to leave in a hurry. "I care well enough to let the woman have a little bit of privacy, is all. You know how she is. She'll be furious should you go barging in on her."

"Aye, well, I'd rather she be furious and _alive_ , thank you very much."

Loki throws on his jacket.

"Why do you keep letting her off on her own like that, anyway?" He asks sourly, fixing his collar. "That's three times now you've let her divert from the group."

"And three times now she will return." Thor assures him. "I promise you, brother."

"Promise..." Loki scoffs. "Such a fine leader you make."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Thor's starting to lose his cool temperament.

"You have zero control of this group, let alone this mission. Letting everyone do whatever the Hel they so well please as long as it doesn't risk confrontation." The younger brother argues. "Knowing not what we face, you cannot afford to let any one of your troops to go wandering off on their own. We're strongest _together_. Tis just basic strategy. Something of which you know absolutely nothing about, obviously."

Like Loki's one to talk. His lax governing and lack of attention to the throne has led to the total ruin of all of Asgard. To this little jaunt that they've since found themselves on.

Thor folds his big, meaty arms cross his armored chest. Puffing himself out as to make him seem bigger and scarier, the Alpha to disobedient whelp of a younger brother.

"I never _asked_ to be leader."

Not that the runt has ever been one to back down, especially to Thor.

"Nay. Tis just your _birthright_ , remember?"

It's a cold burn. Thor can feel it as he glares sharply into his tricky younger brother's piercing eyes.

"This group is not an army nor are they my troops so I may order and command." Thor replies, taking a deep calming breath. "They're my _friends_. My equals. On and off the battlefield. I _trust_ them. Sigyn included."

"And what of _me_?" Loki asks bitingly. "Do you trust me just the same?"

Without even blinking, Thor answers.

"I could have very well beaten the information out of you, you know. Left you in that cell to rot."

Loki narrows his eyes at Thor skeptically. He wants to ask him ' _well, why didn't you?_ ' But he already knows the reason why. Because his brother _does_ trust him. Though the Liar would rather not wish to believe it. He's just not ready to believe it. Not yet.

Thor rakes his fingers through his hair anxiously. Following along the curve of his head, down his scalp where he stops at the nape of his neck. He lets out a deep, troublesome sigh, as if he's thinking real hard about something. Then, finally, he speaks.

"Go." He groans, pinching at the space between his eyes. "She's going to bloody wring your neck, but go."

"I thought you said you don't give orders." Loki tries his best to stifle a grin, trying Thor's patience. He just has to get another word in. Just one more word.

"Please don't make me wish I'd beat you senseless back at the palace." Thor offers him a smirk. "Now off with you! I'll give you a head-start. You've less than an hour before we come to meet up with you both. Sound reasonable?"

"Oh, brother. When have _I_ ever been one for reason?" The Liesmith purrs in such a way to make Thor know he's going to live to regret this.

Loki climbs on his horse and Thor watches as he rides away. Wondering if he's done the right thing by setting him free as he has.

He's granted his brother an awful lot of slack to that already lengthy leash of his. An awful lot of trust. Which is exactly what Loki had warned him not to do. To let them go off on their own. Doing whatever the Hel they like best.

Maybe the little Trickster's right. Maybe Thor does make for a lousy leader. Which is fine by him, really. Because as he watches as his little brother vanishes from sight, riding off into the distance to go protect the woman that he loves, the only thought that rests with him is not the hope to be a better leader. But to be the best man he can be. And an even better brother.


	44. Stones

**STONES**

It doesn't take long to find her. Continuing in the direction they'd been heading, but a short ride later, Loki comes across a pool at the edge of the mountain. A lovely oasis where the rich vegetation of the forest meets the great, jagged rocks jutting into the sky.

A most picturesque waterfall cascades down the mountainside, feeding into the lake, the source of the small river they'd been following all along. And while the water at their camp was warm, heated by the ground beneath, Loki can tell quite clearly this is cool. He can feel it in the air. The spray of cold water as it crashes to the lake below. Tis likely the runoff of melting snow capping the mountaintop above.

In his travels, the Mischief God remembers once hearing Nidavellir described as a magical land where one can find most every kind of precious gemstone they've ever heard of, and many they have not. All guarded by dull little Dwarves inside dull little mountains. And it couldn't be more true.

The way the crystalline water sparkles, it isn't natural. As Loki approaches, the closer he gets, the more he realizes the bank is lined with raw diamonds, just strewn about the shore like they were nothing. Just another rock. As is the entirety of the lake bejeweled with exquisite, glittering gems. All in their genuine, artless state, tumbled and polished by the natural force of the waterfall as it twisted and cut through the mountain, then gathered to rest in this one, little pool.

Just one scoop of his hand, and he'd likely find himself richer than any one king. Should he seek to excavate the whole lake down to the very last pebble, he could very well buy all the nine realms in full. Tis maddening to wonder why none have ever tried. Or mayhap none are as greedy as Loki. To the Dwarves, this is a sacred place. And beautiful. So painfully beautiful. And he doesn't mean the scenery.

Waist deep and standing beneath the waterfall, his truest treasure bathes herself in the crisp, clear water amid the shimmering diamonds and gems.

Now, being the all great and powerful Master of Mischief that he is, there's quite a couple naughty little thoughts running around inside that dirty noggin of his. But such things would only get him into further trouble and as Volstagg had so benevolently pointed out, he's in the dog house as it is. Still, it would be fun to slip into Sif's skin for a while, as to not alarm Sigyn, get in nice and sisterly close, and watch the fair maiden as she bathes most innocently. Or mayhap just feast his eyes from afar. No magic needed. Just hide himself amid the shrubbery and indulge in a bit of much needed _one-on-one_ time. Because Gods know how terribly he needs it given how tightly he's been wound.

But his feet keep moving forward, and before he can give the measure a second thought, Sigyn notices his arrival.

"DEAR GODS!" She shrieks and frantically conceals herself by lowering her body deeper into the pool and instinctively shielding her breasts with her hands.

"Oh, please, woman." He rolls his eyes. "Tis nothing I've not seen before, and on you, no less."

Taking his horse by the reigns, Loki leads it to where Sigyn's is tied at the waters edge. Giving the beast a pat on the head before taking a seat at the shoreline.

"What the HEL are you doing here, Loki!?" She continues to shout over the sound of the waterfall.

"Isn't it obvious I care enough not to let you wander off alone?" He replies, staring down at his boots as he sets about removing them. "Certainly there's many a sick person out there who'd take no greater pleasure than to gander your goods." Present company included, he thinks to himself. "Really, you should THANK me for such a noble deed."

He removes his jacket in a completely nonchalant manner.

"Might I join you?" He asks deadpan, working on the buckle to his pants.

Earning him a very heated, "NAY!"

Which is to be expected, but still, it does sting.

Loki stops what he was doing and rests his elbows on his knees. Cocking his head ever so playfully at her.

"Why?" He asks with a subtle but devious grin on his thin lips. "Afraid you might like what you see?"

Appalled, Sigyn gasps. Her cheeks and chest a delightful candy-apple red, making Loki laugh at her prudish expense.

With a pout, she turns her back on him, glaring at the wall of rock and glittering stone. Loki removes the socks from his feet and stuffs them inside his boots for safekeeping, then slips his toes inside the chilly water.

"DO YOU MIND?" She yells over her shoulder at him.

"Oh no, not at all!" He returns to her with a crafty grin. "Go right ahead!"

"I mean DO YOU MIND TURNING AROUND SO I MAY EXIT?"

Loki fishes out a small apple from inside his jacket.

"Oh that. Yeah, sorry, but you see I'm quite comfortable where I am, thank you."

Retrieving the narrow field knife he's got stashed inside the seam of his right boot, one that's not charged with poison, of course, he begins cutting wedges out of the apple. Holding one up, he offers her the first bite.

"Care for a slice?" He asks, arm outstretched toward her with the piece of fruit in hand. As if goading her to come get it.

Head turned, Sigyn glares coldly at him but says nothing. Shrugging, Loki retracts his arm and takes the bite for himself.

"If you're going to come out, then come out. If you'd rather stay in, then by all means, stay in. Tis your decision." Loki says as he cuts himself another slice. "Either way, I'm not going anywhere. I see no reason why."

"Ever hear of a thing called PRIVACY?"

"Nay. Not really." He bluffs, taking another bite.

Sigyn huffs, wrapping her arms around herself a little tighter.

Loki can tell she's getting cold and tis not from the snowmelt coming down off the mountain. Though it _might_ have a little something to do with his bare feet planted in the water. A little bit of Frost-fueled magic and the water's gone from cool to downright Jotunheim freezing. A bit of mischief which he thinks is absolutely hilarious. Especially since she's no idea she's being tricked.

"But... You do realize, you've got to come out _sometime!_ " He sings most satisfied with himself.

And so they've reached an impasse. With neither party willing to move from their position. Sigyn at her most vulnerable, shivering cold inside the pool, and Loki, content to sit and eat his breakfast, warm and dry as he waits for her to exit. An inevitable outcome, really. Because as bull-headed and stubborn as she prides herself to be, Loki's right. Sigyn _has_ to come out sometime. She can't stay in there forever. Not without freezing herself solid. And becoming a rather shapely popsicle won't do herself very much good. Certainly not just so she can prove a point to the ever aggravating Loki.

This fight isn't worth winning.

An annoyed growl rises in her chest, erupting in a fury as she musters the nerve to march her naked self right out of the frigid waters.

Taking one last bite of apple, Loki rises to his feet and offers the rest to his horse. He pats the diamond dust from his trousers, taking his time as he claims the towel lain across Sigyn's saddle. Then, with the smuggest of all smuggy-smug smiles, unfolds the cloth towel and holds it wide open, awaiting her expected arrival.

"You're a complete arsehole." She growls beneath her chattering teeth.

"Aye. I'm an arsehole. I'm a liar. And I love you." The Trickster croons smooth and sweet as he conceals her modesty within his waiting arms.

Loki wraps Sigyn tight in her towel, hugging his leather-clad arms around her soft, milky-white shoulders and brings her in close to his body. Not that he could possibly ever offer her any warmth, mind you. Not with _his_ Jotun blood. But the warmth she brings _him_ , deep inside his soul, is simply without compare. Like the sun is shining in his heart.

Smiling, Loki closes his eyes and rests his head to her damp hair. Just holding her in his arms and cherishing this moment as if this day would never come. Like he'd been waiting all eternity just to hold her again. And it might be another eternity still should he let go.

Beneath the thin cotton separating her lovely nakedness from his trembling fingertips, Loki can feel her sweet silhouette. He rests his hands proudly at the small of her back, a bit possessively, mayhap, just above her cute, heart-shaped rear, pressing her hips into his.

With eyes as clear and blue as the sparkling pool in which she'd bathed, Sigyn looks up to meet her gaze with his. Two precious gemstones. My, how they shine. Like crisp, light sapphires to his lively emerald green.

It might be a risk, but he's so lost in her eyes, he's no choice but to kiss her. Loki draws his face closer, letting his eyes flutter shut again. Relying on instinct as he dips his head forward that his lips will find hers. And while a smack on the kisser is what the Trickster expects, tis not quite the right kind of smack that he verily gets.

"MOTHER FUAGHH..."

Point-blank, Sigyn head-butts the Liar, sending him stumbling back, clutching his face. Tears in his eyes at the sudden rush of pain, Loki drops to his knees.

"What the HEL, woman!?" He shouts, his voice muffled through his bloodied hands. "What was THAT for?"

Peeking out through the slats between his fingers, he can see she's ditched the towel and is already nearly finished dressing in a hurry, glaring down at him as she secures her breastplate.

"That was for lying to me." She replies cooly as she combs a hand through her drenched, tangled locks.

Hand on his knee for balance, Loki eases himself back up to his feet.

"Fair enough." Loki moans with pain, touching his nose tentatively to test if it's broken. "Can't say I didn't deserve that, but mayhap next time you can try avoiding the fa- _chhhhh_..."

So she knees him in the groin.

Hard.

Clutching his nethers, Loki falls like a sack of uru-clad bricks. It feels as if all the air's been purged from his lungs. He can't breathe. Face red and veins protruding from his neck, his whole body pulses with the most excruciating pain ever imaginable. Worse than getting pummeled by the Hulk. Or a Valkyrie. Or a Hulk _and_ a Valkyrie _AND_ throw in the whole blasted lot of Earth's Mightiest Heroes for good measure!

Gods, he thinks he's going to throw up. Rolling onto his stomach, he nearly does. Dry heaving into the grass and dirt as bloodied saliva and chewed up bits of apple seep from his cracked lips.

Sigyn kneels down beside him as Loki struggles to gulp in precious air.

"And that's for betraying my trust." She tells him in a calm, even tone.

For thinking it was okay to sleep with her in the disguise of another man. For tricking her. Deceiving her. Playing with her heart and emotions. For all the dirty little tricks he's done. For _everything_. Suffice to say, he's gotten off easy with just a well-deserved kick in the balls.

Loki rolls onto his back, straining his eyes in the bright sunlight so he may look up into her face. He keeps a good hold on his family jewels should she feel so inclined to strike at him again from this vulnerable position.

"You're right." He sputters, finding his voice through the feel of his stomach and the contents of last night's supper lodged in his throat. "I'm sorry."

Sigyn stands as if hit with the sudden urge to distance herself from him and his apology. Like the word has physically hurt her somehow.

"As you keep saying, but how am I supposed to _believe_ you, Loki?" She asks, her voice pleading. "You tell me that you _love_ me. Leave me little tokens of affection. How am I supposed to believe _any_ of it?"

"Because I'm telling you the _truth_ , Sigyn." Loki strains, fighting the sudden pangs of pain as he forces his body to sit upright.

He begins massaging at his poor, battered stones. Wincing as he makes doubly sure they're both still very much attached and in proper working order. Not that he has any plans or delusions of siring any bastard Jotun heirs any time soon. Or ever. To think the kind of father he would be is enough to make the Liesmith shudder. Tis not like he has all that much experience of his own with stable, loving father figures. Nor is any world ready for a litter of little Loki's running about causing all sorts of mischief and tricks.

"Are you?" Sigyn demands. "How can I trust anything you say when everything has been a lie?"

"Because it hasn't been a lie, Sigyn. Not for me." He tells her strong and sure, looking her square in the eyes now. "When I tell you I love you, when I say I want to spend the rest of my life with you, I _mean_ it. From the bottom of my heart."

"I want to believe you..."

Though she tries to remain strong, her voice betrays her. There's doubt in her words. Emotion where she says that she feels none. Yet another chink in her impregnable armor. The chance that Loki's been waiting for. To wear away her steely veneer. Pealing apart all those layers. One by one. Little by little, revealing the sweet Sigyn he knows is still very much beneath. _This_ is his opening. His opportunity to win himself back inside her good graces.

"I've loved you since the moment we first met. You have to trust that." Loki climbs to his feet, regaining a sure footing. "And if you cannot trust my words, then please, do trust in this."

Grabbing her by the hand, Loki catches Sigyn off guard, yanking her body in to his so quick she can't process it immediately. And just as quick, in one swift motion, he locks his lips with hers.

Sigyn's eyes shoot wide from the shock. Her first instinct is to push him off her, but he doesn't let her go so easily. Not when he's so close to winning.

Ready to strike at him again, she rips her hand from his. Loki grabs hold of her wrist and brings her back in to him, wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her from struggling this time. Though she's hardly putting up much of a fight. Loki has no doubt if she really wanted to, she could land him on his arse again. Beat him into oblivion were she to have the heart to. But her heart just isn't in it. Not at all.

Holding her tight against his body, Loki takes her hand and leads it to his chest, placing it right where his heart should be beneath all the layers of leather. He then lets go of her wrist, trusting her to keep her hand were he had left it, and places his own hand atop her heaving chest. Right atop her heart. Just as he has done so many times before.

Leaning forward, Loki touches his forehead to hers and whispers to her lips.

"If you cannot trust me, trust your heart."

Sigyn can feel every word as he speaks them, Loki's that close. His cold breath like snowflakes against her quivering lips. The chill to calm the fire in her veins.

She doesn't even mean to, but she finds her head subconsciously leaning forward, just ever so slightly in his direction. In the direction of his wanting lips. In fact, her whole body seems to melt into him. Every muscle relaxes. Turns tranquil. Becoming one, they share a single breath.

Nothing but a heartbeat rests between them. Nothing to keep him from kissing her again. And this time she doesn't fight it. This time she gives right in.

Her eyelids become heavy as her lips follow his lead. His kiss is so deep and so terribly sad. So longing. Just as Theoric's was. As is Loki's. Everything he could ever want to say to her, she can taste upon his lips and read it in his kiss. To her, they spell the truth. He loves her right and true.

Beneath his hand, Loki can feel her heart beating, dancing to the rhythm of his kiss. Dancing just for him. Ever the greedy one, his hands wander onward, feeling up and down the glory that is her body. A glory that has been denied to him for far too long.

One weaves fingers in her hair, balling itself into a loose fist. It knots at the base of her skull at the sudden and unexpected jump in his chest. The feel of his heart flipping as she parts her sweet lips and deepens the kiss. Her soft, warm tongue wet upon his frost-cold skin.

Loki accepts her invitation, admitting her inside. His pulse races as they meet. Dizzy and excited as the blood rushes from his head.

Inside, he can taste her, as if for the first time. Her palette so clean and fresh and sweet. His brain grows drunk on the warm traces of honey wine, a tantalizing surprise as his tongue slowly circles hers.

But that's all it is, really. A taste. A taste before the mountain opens its great, rocky jaws and all Hel rains down upon them both.

And just when he was on the road to getting his rocks off.

For Loki, such is life.

* * *

 _ **A/N: I'm guessing everyone's seen the Ragnarok teaser trailer already, right? (If you haven't, WHAT ARE YOU DOING!? Go watch it. Right now. I'll wait...) I had my reservations about the film at first, but after watching the teaser, I'm so excited! If not for anything but Loki's "Agent of Asgard" helmet! Woooohooo! I think I'll have to write in a little dagger flipping next chapter to celebrate! Your thoughts? Reviews, please!**_


	45. The Trouble With Trolls

**THE TROUBLE WITH TROLLS**

Loki and Sigyn stand locked in embrace amid the glittering gems and all the stars in her eyes. Upon her lips sings songs of love, but there's another song wailed high along the breeze this day. The ballad of death calls down from the mountain.

The Liesmith's eyes shoot wide.

Whoever said these dull little mountains of Nidavellir were guarded by Dwarves is a complete and absolute arsehole. Tis not Dwarves one need concern themselves with. Not at all.

The true guardians of the mountain? The real reason none have dared to try and steal of the pool's splendor?

The answer can be only one thing. One terrible, horrible thing.

Trolls.

"Oh, Hel..."

The hills come alive, screaming with the might of fifty or so Rock Trolls as they swarm in all around them.

"Nay, nay, nay..."

Loki slides to the ground, quickly throwing on his socks and boots. As does Sigyn hastily toss her swords upon her back, readying for the approaching ambush.

The horses scream an unearthly sound, rearing back and thrashing about wildly as they struggle to escape from their harnesses. Loki's stallion manages to pry itself loose only to run blindly in the completely wrong direction. In a fury of fright, it charges itself right into the jagged maw of one of those horridly hungry creatures.

At the stench of fresh blood, two other Trolls gather round, hoping to partake in their comrades good fortune, though the lucky one is not too keen to share. The trio begin fighting for the kill, each grabbing at a leg and pulling, tearing into the poor animal as it screeches awfully one last and final time.

If Loki hadn't much felt like vomiting earlier, he very well may have to now. The vile brutality of these horrid creatures is enough to turn even the strongest of stomachs sour.

The Trickster rises to his feet, slow and steady as to not spook the repulsive things, stealthily palming the small blade from his boot. Just as slow and careful, Sigyn raises her right arm, readying a hand at the hilt of her sword.

Without physically moving his head, Loki quickly glances over to Sigyn to catch her sizing up the competition. Her eyes narrow, concentrating on the nearest opponent with not a shred of fear or doubt to cloud her features. Which is a relief. Because right now he's damn well nervous. Not only for his own sake, but for that of Sigyn's safety, as well.

Concealing the blade up the sleeve of his leather tunic, Loki cautiously raises his hands to prove to the creatures he's unarmed.

"We mean no harm." He addresses the crude battalion. "We're just going to be going now. You can _umm_... keep the horse. My gift to you all."

The swarm stands quiet. Licking their jaws of slobber as they collectively stare at the Silver Tongue and his pretty companion. Tis an uneasy silence. So tense, once can physically feel it. But still, they do nothing, as if awaiting further orders.

For a moment mayhap Loki thinks he may have gotten through to these dull creatures. That he's actually negotiated safe passage and that he and Sigyn may actually escape this without needing lift a single blade. But then one of the Trolls steps forth. A big fellow. Much larger than most the rest. A general, perhaps. And he doesn't look much in a negotiating mood.

"KILL THEM!" The thing bellows to its troops. "OUR QUEEN BIDS DEATH TO THE LAUFEYSON!"

Queen...

"Well, damn." Loki groans.

That means the sisters have been here. Which furthermore means they're both royally screwed.

"So much for diplomacy."

First Asgard and now Nidavellir. That witch Lorelei spreads her magic like a damned venereal disease. The tenacity of that woman is truly commendable. But brainwashing Trolls? Now that's just low. Even for _her_. Not to mention totally disgusting.

"You ready?"

Without even looking, he directs his attention to Sigyn, making his voice as quiet as possible but still loud enough for her to hear him. In reply, she curls her fingers round the handle, gripping her sword firmly. She clenches her jaw. Teeth grit tight. With her feet a shoulders width apart and knees slightly bent, the Lady readies her stance, digging her heels into the earth.

Loki takes a deep breath.

 _Ready_.

The Troll guard roars a thundering rumble. A terrible noise which echoes off the rock-faced walls, summoning his troops to fight.

 _Set_.

Straightening his arm, Loki flicks his wrist and produces the hidden blade, dropping it down into his waiting palm. Then, in one swift motion, throws it straight through the air with deadly accuracy, making his mark in the center of the great Troll's eye. He silences the beast for good so now only his echo remains.

 _Go_.

First blood goes to Loki. The thing never saw it coming. Nor will it ever see much of anything again. The very second the slain Troll's corpse hits the ground, the battle begins, erupting in a terrifying frenzy of drawn swords and cries for blood.

Retrieving her sword from its scabbard, Sigyn immediately cuts loose the reigns to her horse, freeing the beast with one great chop. She gives the poor, frightened animal a fighting chance to flee the scene rather than sharing in the same fate as its mutilated stablemate. The girl then turns her blade on the nearest threat approaching.

Summoning his magic, Loki calls forth his helmet. The gleaming horns materialize about his crown from out of thin air. And once they've fully rendered, the Prince of Lies grins wide and wicked. Now dressed for the occasion, the real fun can begin!

"Kaboom."

The Trickster weaves his spell, shooting his arms forth and causing an array of small explosions. Several green smoke bombs explode in midair, creating the perfect diversion. A perfectly calculated chaos for he and Sigyn to start bringing the pain.

"Go for the eyes!" He shouts over to her through the melee.

While the Trolls are distracted, Sigyn runs up the back of one of the craggily beasts, kicking it in the head and sending him falling as she leaps on to the next. High in the air, she grabs for her second blade. Pointing the twin swords downward, she aims to stab out the eyes of her next lucky victim.

Knees to the big Troll's chest, Sigyn rides the beast as it falls to its back. The hilts of her swords stuck in the fallen things head act as handles to assist her on their way down.

With a forward roll, she dismounts into a crouching position. Back on the battlefield and ready for the next opponent.

"So this Queen..." Sigyn calls out to Loki. "Your ex, I presume?"

Crossing his arms, Loki reaches for the pair of daggers concealed inside his tunic, pulling them forth from their sheaths and giving them a good flip in the air to familiarize himself with their heft and balance.

"Not now, my love." He exhales with great concentration. "Kinda busy here!"

Sure. It has absolutely _nothing_ to do with the fact that he really doesn't wish to explain his former fuckbuddy to his currently estranged wife. His wife who'd just started kinda, sorta, maybe began liking him again.

Becoming an extension of his body, Loki tosses one blade to the left, the other to his right. Both hit their respective targets with that of expert skill and accuracy. And a great, big, whopping heap of showmanship. Because Loki just can't help but feed his flair for the dramatic in everything he does.

"Any other jilted lovers I should familiarize myself with?" Sigyn continues as she charges her sword right through the heart of a lesser Troll soldier. "Should I be jealous?"

Hands open and waiting, Loki calls back his weapons to return to him. His brow furrows.

"Actually, I'm starting to think she's more jealous of _you_ , really." He half-mumbles to himself, hoping Sigyn doesn't hear him. But she does.

"Seriously!?" Sigyn shouts, smashing her hilt into an ugly Troll's mug. What she does to the creature can actually be seen as an improvement. "Just want to make sure I'd heard you correctly. So you're saying this is all thanks to one of your barmy ex-girlfriends?"

Sucking in a laugh, she shakes her head. Amused, although slightly disgusted.

"My, for a dead guy, you sure do get around."

Loki cringes at the thought of Lorelei having been associated with being his 'girlfriend', though plays it cool.

"What can I say?" The Liesmith returns with a jesting grin, ramming his blade into a monster's eye socket. It spurts like a ripe squished grape. "Chicks dig the horns."

Kicking off the chest of a Troll, Sigyn bends her body into a backflip. She wraps her arms around the neck of the creature immediately opposite her, twisting and snapping his spine as she flips it on its back. The thing's dead before it even hits the floor.

"You're incorrigible." She pants, eyeing her next kill. "You know that?"

Loki grins. As do all the other Lokis. His doppelgänger illusions made alive with green magic.

"Not to mention insanely smart and incredibly good-looking."

The dumb creatures swing their crude weapons and hit nothing but air. Allowing the real Loki to slip among their ranks undetected. The Trickster God picks them each off one by one. Tis like shooting fish in a barrel. Or stabbing Trolls in their big, ugly, bulbous yellow eyes. But that's the trouble with Trolls, isn't it? Even under Lorelei's control, it doesn't make them any more clever or bright. They're still as dimwitted and stupid as they come. And just as susceptible to his weapons of choice.

While a dagger is hardly the most popular pick for the battlefield, Loki wields his well. As a lad, he'd learned to familiarize himself with a broad range of weapons, but for whatever reason always liked the smaller, more discreet blade best.

Magic was always considered a women's craft. And daggers a tool, not a weapon befitting a real man. A dagger meant treachery. To be hidden on the body, used only for close, hand-to-hand combat. Or to stab another in the back.

How many times Thor had made fun of him. Telling him the cook's been asking for his cutlery back. Asking if once he's mastered knives, if Loki would train next in the deadly art of forks, as the elder Odinson would laugh on for hours.

No self-respecting soldier would ever dare use a dagger as his primary weapon. But Loki's not the usual sort. Nor has he ever felt he's had anything to prove in the realm pertaining to the length of one's blade. As if the merit of a soldier's worth could be measured by the size of his longsword.

Grinning wide, the Trickster fells another beast.

As the adage goes, tis not the size that counts but how you use it.

Sensing a threat getting just a _tad_ too close to his woman, Loki spins on his heels, his tunic fanning around him as he lets his daggers fly. Sigyn turns just in time to catch the smiling Liesmith bring low the great Troll in her blind spot. It surely would have struck her if Loki hadn't gotten to him first. Not that the Lady is at all grateful for such chivalry. Rolling her eyes as if to say 'I could have taken care of it myself'.

"You're welcome." The Laufeyson provokes impishly, calling back his blades.

"I don't recall giving my thanks." Sigyn teases in return.

"Nay, but you were thinking it."

Sigyn scoffs.

"Oh was I now?" She twirls round, slashing at a Troll's belly and another right across the throat. "So we're a mind reader now, are we?"

"Of course." He boasts with liar's pride. "The best."

"Then what am I thinking right now, _hm_? Right at this very moment?"

From across the battlefield, they meet eyes and his face instantly brightens.

"Well, I don't have to be a mind reader to discern _that_." Loki replies, acting ever so cocky. He wags an eyebrow at her, offering the Lady one of his most charming of smiles. "Face it, Sunshine. You love me."

There's a smirk on her lips and the faintest hint of a blush. Even from across the way, he can see it so clearly. That confirmation. A look about her that only seals his notion as truth. Though the girl dismisses his wager as lies.

"Do not!" She whines playful as a child.

Turning her back on him, Sigyn attempts to hide her guilty smile. Which only eggs the Trickster on all the more.

"Aye, you do!"

Feeling overly confident, Loki flips one of his daggers in the air and catches it with ease. Then jams it right between the eyes of a big, ugly Troll.

Sigyn's handling herself just as easily. While Loki's daggers aren't durable enough to penetrate the Troll's thick, stony hide, Sigyn's swords are more than capable, slicing through them like butter. Just the right amount of force, and she impales her foe straight through. Making damned well sure she leaves a lasting impression on the terrible creatures that the girl is a force to be reckoned with. They'll make no meal of her this day.

"I think I may have hit you too hard." She calls over to Loki, showing no tire or wear. "Seems you're delusional."

The Liar God laughs and his illusions laugh with him.

What great fun he's having. The witty banter. Having a laugh as he and his lady love thin through the herd. And here he was worried about entering this fight. With each new kill, his fears have been made more and more unfounded.

Both he and Sigyn make an excellent team. Be it fifty Trolls or a thousand, _nothing_ can stop them.

"Oh, I think tis safe to say, my dearest, that such delusions of grandeur began well before meeting y-"

Nothing but his own hubris. And the bludgeon upside the head.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Sorry this is so late! I accidentally deleted what I'd written for most of this chapter and ALL of the next and well... I just wanted to curl up in a ball and cry into my ale! Thank you so much Rocconilien for your awesome review with the power to drag me out of the taverns and get me motivated to write again! ANOTHER!**_  
 _ **Fun Fact: As for the complete and absolute arsehole who'd stated the dull mountains of Nidavellir are guarded by Dwarves, according the Marvel Wiki, that bilgesnipe is none other than Malekith! (Thor Vol. 4 #7)**_


	46. Cry Of The Valkyrie

**CRY OF THE VALKYRIE**

Loki had been so involved with flirting with Sigyn, he hadn't made notice he'd been flirting with disaster all along. Getting too full of himself, too confident on the battlefield, he'd left himself wide open for attack.

Mistake number one, the Liesmith had underestimated his opponent. However slow and dimwitted the opponent might be, they've got numbers on their side and a strength not to be trifled with. Now he realizes his folly but all too late. And he'll pay the ultimate price for it, too.

One of the Trolls becomes wise to his tricks, or mayhap tis just plain dumb luck. While the Trickster God is busy showing off to his lady, the lesser creature sniffs the Laufeyson out from that of his army of ghosts. It sneaks up from behind and hits him over the head with a crude club of sawed bone and twisted metal. Loki falls to the ground and his illusions disperse. In a flicker of green mist, they fade into nothing.

"LOKI!"

Over the pounding in his head, he can hear the sound of Sigyn calling for him. The clanking of steel and the loud din of battle. The rumble of a dozen feet to the ground as the war rages on without him.

Loki's body lay on its side, his head resting upon the earth, watching through the many legs as Sigyn fights her way towards him. A fight which she is quickly losing. And through it all, the jumbled haze which is currently his mind, his only thought is that she looks pretty. So very pretty. And wonders why she seems so sad.

She really shouldn't worry so much. Certainly not over _him_. Sigyn has such a beautiful smile, Loki thinks to himself amid the concussion. She should really try to smile more. Once this is all over, he decides, he'd like to see her smile again. He'd like more than anything to make her happy. To make her honest. Really honest, with a real wedding this time, not a sham. Settle down in the country. Mayhap have a couple little ones. Build a happy little life together and live good and well and free...

All the while, Sigyn swings away with her blades.

There's a reason why mother had taught her to suppress her emotions. To steel her heart. Become cold like metal. Hammering into her over and over, time and time again, the battlefield is no place for feelings. Such distractions will only bring about a hasty end. And bloody, too. She'd taught her to fight better than this. To become the perfect weapon. And a weapon feels nothing.

All actions have consequences. Sorrow for a fallen comrade slows even the quickest, most sure-footed soldier. Guilt can make you second-guess your actions. Fear will only hold you back from moving forward. Hate and anger clouds one's judgement, leading to revenge when only the mission should come first. But love... Love is by far the worst of all emotions, as far as her mother was concerned. With good reason.

Love is reckless. Dangerously so. Causing even the most level-headed individual to act stupidly. To put themselves in harms way should it mean saving a loved one or a friend. Making them think they can take on a whole army on their own. A whole planet, even. There are no bounds where love's concerned. All is forfeit. All is lost. It blinds us all from everything else, because nothing else can ever be equally as important as love. To the lover, love is all.

As does Sigyn give it her all as she fights her way through the fray. A frantic struggle as panic weighs so heavy on the girl, like her limbs are made of lead. Her steps were once so fluid and seamless, now turned sloppy. Her dance becoming desperate. Careless and fleeting.

The second she saw Loki fall, tis like something inside her had snapped into place. Like a light switch flipping on. Like nothing else matters. And in that one second, she'd lost all control. One second is all it takes to misplace her concentration. To forget her surroundings. Lose sight of the conflict at hand. Only focusing on Loki, Sigyn is blind to the great Troll at her back. The formidable foe that takes her down in one swipe.

Loki's brain sobers immediately at the sight of her body rag-dolling across the field.

"NOOOOOOO!"

He can hear the sound before his brain can even process that he's screaming. The feral cry having been ripped from his lungs. So primal, he doesn't even recognize it as his own voice. Nor does he recognize the change coming over him.

It happens without warning. Typically he can feel it coming on, the monster inside him fighting to break free. A slow transformation as the cold spreads throughout his body. But this? This is an explosion.

The air turns frigid with frost, dropping abruptly by about forty degrees at the very least. Loki becomes something of an epicenter of sorts. The ground immediately beneath him dead and frozen. White as ashen snow.

His fright-cold rage spreads outward, freezing most everything in sight. The waterfall groans this strange, almost metallic sound as the entirety of it solidifies, becoming frozen in time. As does the lake, from center to shore.

Loki's eyes burn red, painting everything he sees in a deep, seething vermilion. Forgoing the pain, now an irritable ache thanks to the adrenaline and ice in his veins, he wills his body to move forward. One blue hand over the other as he climbs to his feet.

Shooting his arms forth, the Jotun in him beckons the ice to obey his bidding. A snarl on his Frost-blue lips as the frozen waterfall creaks and splinters, shattering into a hundred-thousand shards of ice. A hundred-thousand icy daggers at Loki's ultimate command. He unleashes the ungodly force upon the hoard of lowly Trolls, impaling the lot of them. He stains the white with sickly red.

How did everything fall apart all so quickly? A question he asks of himself as he freezes one of the abominations solid in its tracks.

It's all his fault, he tells himself. It's all his fault. And begs unto the heavens for her to please not be dead. Because if she is... Gods help them all.

From out of the storm of ice and snow swirling round him, Loki spots movement across the field of slain corpses. Sigyn lifts her head, struggling to right herself. A sign of life which melts his frigid heart. He's never been more relieved. So happy, he could cry. Tis about the last thing he feels before something grabs him by the throat.

"Annoying li'l gnat, innit he?" The dumb thing growls from behind. "Can I eat 'im now?"

Loki struggles in the creatures giant mitt, but it's no use. He grabs at it with his frigid Jotun hands, but the thing's rocky flesh is impervious to his touch. It only makes the thing squeeze at him tighter, its thick fingers closing in around Loki's windpipe. He struggles to breathe, let alone keep consciousness. The only thing keeping him awake and alert is the sight of Sigyn's body being dragged towards him by another Troll lucky enough to escape his fury unharmed.

"Queen say make the Laufeyson suffer." The other Troll rumbles. "Then we eat."

Loki can feel his skin return to his usual pallor, though paler at his current lack of oxygen. That and the distressing sight of Sigyn as the second Troll grabs her by the neck and raises her limp body well above the ground. All the blood drains right from his face, leaving him a sickly grey.

"Rather pretty poppet this one." It brings her unconscious face right to his garish mug. She begins to stir as it strokes at her hair. "You think Queen let me keep 'er? A'least for a li'l while?"

"YOU TOUCH HER AND I'LL KILL YOU!" Loki roars with all his might. "I'M GOING TO FUchhh-"

His captor wrings his neck, giving Loki a little shake to shut him up and it works. That was just about all the last fight he'd had left in him. Loki's all bark now and no bite. And even his bark is utterly useless.

"Queen has plans for tha' one." The thing replies, indicating Sigyn. "We keep female alive for now."

"But we can play with pretty girl, right?"

"If it make Laufeyson suffer? Aye, let 'im watch as we play."

"Then we EAT?"

"Aye! WE EAT!"

"Please... please..." Loki begs, kicking his feet but only hitting air. Tis about all he can do. He's been made powerless. Completely useless as the horrid stench of Troll saliva overwhelms his senses.

This is what he gets. What he deserves.

He'd put up a great fight, but it was all for not. Story of his life. He'd given it his best, but his best just wasn't enough. It wasn't enough to save her. No matter how many Trolls he'd killed, in the end, they're both going to die horribly anyway. And it's all because of him. Him and those Godsforsaken witches. He'd made a deal with those two-faced devils and now the time has come to pay in full. And it isn't fair, he thinks to himself. It isn't fair that Sigyn would have to be the one to pay such a price.

"I... I love... you..." Loki croaks, struggling with the words through the tight grip on his neck. As does he struggle with what to say to her in these final few moments they have left together.

He'd tell her he's sorry, but what use is an apology? He's been apologizing to her all his life for his actions and what good has that done her? It's only ever led to more apologies. More heartache. More broken promises and empty lies. At least in this, his final few words, he can give her something true. Something real in the end.

Loki can feel his neck snapping. Fireworks explode behind his eyes. A most colorful display of electric impulses and synapses bursting. Tis beautiful, really. The twinkling lights as his brain begins to die away. Everything becomes heavy. Even his eyelids, though he resists the urge to close them. If he can help it, Loki wants the very last thing he sees to be of her.

"Cover... Cover your ears." Sigyn slurs, wrestling with consciousness.

Loki's not quite sure he's heard her correctly, especially since his hearing's gone all fuzzy. Sigyn sounds all muffled, like he's hearing her through a tin can from a thousand miles away. At least he _thinks_ he'd heard her speaking.

For a moment, he suspects he must have imagined it, a hallucination from the pain or mayhap he's just losing his mind, but he swears most distinctly he'd heard her say to cover his ears. Which is an odd request to give, especially as they're both about to perish. But he doesn't have much time to think on it. Not that his brain is up to thinking all that much, anyway.

Not a moment later and he understands exactly what she'd meant. He hears her loud and clear.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Sigyn opens her mouth and unleashes an ungodly sound. The likes of which the Trolls have never heard before. But Loki has.

Tis the same sound Sigyn's mother cried when he'd stabbed her. That terrible sound which made his insides feel like they were jelly, vibrating inside him at a deathly speed. In all his centuries, all the realms that he'd explored, he's never heard anything quite like it. Nor had he hoped to hear anything quite like it ever again.

Tis the cry of the Valkyrie.

Sigyn emits just a short burst, but it's enough to cause the Troll to drop her immediately as if she were made of fire. Like the girl has hurt him somehow with nothing more than the sound of her voice.

Confused, it stares down at Sigyn as she lay in the dirt. This little female morsel which was bound to be his plaything, then surely his meal. There's something different about this one. Something off from all the rest. Seems she won't be going down so easily.

Dazed by the nasty sting, the thing shakes its head. It doesn't much care for its food fighting back. Nor is it sure it wants to try for another bite.

The creature sniffs at the air, trying to get a reading of her. As if the female's scent could possibly unlock all her secrets. But all it does is fill the beast with an uneasy feeling. A terror in his bones when faced with a power he doesn't quite understand. Like how all creatures are born with the innate fear of the dark. An instinct dating back to that of prehistoric man. This Troll feels it when it looks at her, too. As does Loki. This dread older than even time, itself.

Now the Liesmith understands. That spark he feels every time he's close to her. That chill within his blood. Tis a _warning_. A device of self-preservation that most would likely heed, but he's simply not like most. A lesser, mayhap more sane, man would certainly run from the danger, but he's always been one to run toward it. He's attracted to it. As is he attracted to _her_. And now he knows why. She's as dangerous as they come.

Sigyn stirs on the ground as the pair of Trolls look on. They don't know what else to do but to quietly observe. Cautious as she comes back around, bringing herself to her hands and knees. Either that, or they're too terrified to move. And they should be.

Loki watches as Sigyn slowly stands to her full height. Still several feet shorter than that of the Troll, but one would never know by the sure way in which she presents herself. Chin high and assertive. Shoulders square and spine straight. She looks positively regal. Then, in an awesome display, the woman unfurls her mighty wings.

Much like his horns, or any magic for that matter, they appear from seemingly nowhere. Sprouting from her back, the feathered appendages simply come into being. But as for _how_ , the Master of Mischief doesn't have a clue.

From tip to tip, the massive things span a length of twelve feet. Larger than that of her mother's and twice as glorious. Breathtaking, to say the very least.

Loki can feel the fingers around his neck loosen. The beast holding him captive just as equally in awe as he. And just as terrified.

The Valkyrie glares up at the craggy beast with a strong sense of dominance over the lesser creature, much as an alpha would to an insubordinate in its pack. With just one look, she stares the thing down, bringing it to its knees. Shrouding the beast kneeled beneath her in the shade of her glory.

"What... What are you?" It musters the courage to ask.

To which Sigyn simply states,

"Glorious." She breathes. "A most glorious death."

The Rock Troll knows when faced with a greater being. The pecking order of the cosmos and where it does stand. Closing its eyes, the lowly beast accepts its fate. Awaiting her divine judgement.

Sigyn takes a deep breath, filling her lungs, and Loki prepares himself the best he can. He covers his ears and braces for the impact of the seismic blast.

And she was right. It is nothing if not glorious.

The wall of sound hits so hard, Loki doesn't feel the ground rush up to meet him as the great Troll relinquishes his hold on him. He doesn't even realize that he's screaming at the top of his lungs, he's in so much pain. In agony as he holds his head in his hands and writhes about in the trampled grass.

Loki swears he can taste metal. An acrid taste much like placing a copper piece in one's mouth. Except this foul taste would be of his insides boiling. Blood fills his lungs, bubbling in the back of his esophagus and pooling in his mouth. As does it drain from his eyes, nose, and ears. He's being bled alive.

His skull feels like it's being crushed and it verily is. Just like every other bone in his body. His chest is collapsing in on itself, squeezing his organs into a soup. He's not quite sure how much more of this he could possibly take. The pain is beyond excruciating. Beyond any torture he has ever known before.

And just when he thinks he can take no more, suddenly, it stops.

There's a terrible ringing in his ears, but at least the sensation of his head being pressed in a vice has ended. So there's that. Rolling onto his stomach, Loki looks out to find the other guy hasn't faired so well as he.

Red. Just red remains of what was once such a formidable beast. A spray of carnage where both its head and chest had exploded forth from its body. And not a single drop of the foul thing's blood dared to touch Sigyn.

Clean as grace, the Valkyrie hovers above the field of battle, her wings beating most magnificently. Beautiful and brilliant white. And terrifying. So very terrifying.

She glares down at the earth below her, at the second and very last of the Troll's army. There's this look in her eye that's beyond anger. A look to which there is no word, but death. A look that Loki's seen in his very own reflection from time to time again. A shiver runs through him and he turns his head to catch the once gruesome creature turn coward. The enormous Troll that had sought to make him suffer, now shaking in the dirt. Petrified of nothing more than one little girl. Not even Loki could ever dream to inflict such fear upon such a ghastly beast as this.

Sigyn opens her mouth to address this predator turned prey, but Loki cannot hear what she is saying. It's then that he realizes he's been temporarily deafened. At least he hopes it's temporary. But whatever she'd said, it's got the poor Troll jumping to its feet in a dash, racing as fast as its Trolly feet can carry. Though Loki knows best from experience, there's no outrunning a Valkyrie.

Sigyn waits a good ten seconds, giving the thing a lengthy headstart before she begins her pursuit. Fast as lightning, the Valkyrie swoops low and glides, plucking the Troll off the ground much like a hawk to a mouse. Making the great beast look damned well weightless as she carries it off, kicking and flailing, up into the sky above.

When faced with wings, the thing never stood a chance.

Loki directs his eyes to the heavens. Watching as Sigyn and the Troll ascend higher and higher, becoming tiny little specks amid all the clouds in all the sky. And then nothing. They've traveled beyond his sight. That's when Loki starts to panic. Eyes searching wildly for even a glimmer. Any sight of them, at all.

He can't hear. He can't move. He can't even call for help.

The battlefield has gone quiet. Not like he can hear anything, anyway. And that's probably for the best, because if he could hear, then he would surely hear the sound of a grown man screaming as it plunges to its death. A Troll, yes, but a man none-the-less. The sound of bones not only shattering, but pulverizing, liquifying as it splats against the cold, hard earth. Tis the stuff of nightmares. The thing is not at all recognizable after impact. A grease spot on the world, at best.

Loki begins to hyperventilate. The shock of it all has finally gotten to him. As have his injuries. To put it mildly, he's totally freaking out. His heart races inside his chest at a sickening speed. Though when faced with the alternative, he supposes he's lucky it's still beating at all.

The world begins to spin and blur. Reminding him of the last time he had shared a pint, or make it a whole _keg_ , with his brother. It was the night before what would have been Thor's coronation. Funny how he would think of that now. Now that everything's gone all pear-shaped. They really did have some great times together... He only hopes this time he doesn't pass out in his own sick.

"Sig..."

The weight of his head becomes too great for Loki. His neck gives out and his face hits the earth.


	47. Solstice

_**A/N: Sooo... I posted a chapter last week, but got an error message, so I don't think anyone following this story was emailed to let 'em know it was up! If you weren't notified, and haven't read the previous chapter, GO BACK NOW and READ IT! Alright? Awesome. It's super important. But now, another flashback. Because I just keep getting Little Loki ideas in my head. And if you have any Kid Loki ideas of your own, send me a message! Or better yet, write a review! I'd love to hear them, and maybe even write about it! xoxo**_

* * *

 **SOLSTICE**

"Sigyn? Would you... Would you care to accompany me to the... _uh_... _umm_... Nay."

A child of ten, little Loki stands before the mirror at his dressing table. As he's stood for the better part of an hour, primping and prening and practicing his lines. Trying his very best to come up with just the right thing to say to a very special certain someone. The girl who owns his heart, but doesn't even know he's alive.

He squares his shoulders and raises his chin assertively, looking down at his reflection from the tip of his nose.

"Sigyn!" He says more sure this time, making his voice sound stern and noble. Just like his father's. "I DEMAND your... _ughhhh_..."

His tiny shoulders droop. This is so much harder than he'd expected it to be.

Loki runs his fingers through his boyish short dark hair, letting out an irritated sigh as he does so.

"Right..."

He returns his attention to the mirror one last time. More determined now than ever to hammer this out and get it right.

He can do this.

"Sigyn, might I request your company to the solstice celebration tomorrow?" He asks to himself, this time with just the right amount of firmness. And add a dash of charming cool for good measure. "It would be my absolute pleasure should you accept my invitation."

Loki smiles at his reflection.

"I think that shall do quite nicely." He nods approvingly, looking himself over one last time, then it's off to find Sigyn.

He knows some mornings she likes to spend her time with Mother. They drink tea and do... _well_... girly things. Knit and talk and the like. Whatever it is that girls do, really.

She'd never really talked to him about her home life, but Loki knows the girl doesn't see her very own mother all that much for whatever reason that might be. Which is probably for the best because based on that one time that he'd met her, his assessment of the woman is that she's a stone cold bitch. But Sigyn is sweet and kind and All-mother Frigga seems to think so, too. Taking the girl under her wing, so to speak. Which is good. Loki wants them to like each other. In his adolescent mind, it'll only better his chances when he's old enough to ask for Sigyn's hand. But he's getting ahead of himself. First, a date.

Entering his mother's sitting room, Loki puffs out his thin chest, making himself seem more a man though he really still looks like such a boy.

Sigyn looks up at him from over the rim of her teacup. Her face instantly brightens upon seeing him, making his chest swell even further with pride.

Frigga knows to let the kids have their space, especially since Loki's giving her that look to say please don't do or say anything to embarrass me, mom. Which means of course she has no choice but to. Smiling knowingly at her most favored son as she rises from her seat, the Queen Mother gives the Prince a sweet little peck on the cheek as she passes, making Loki blush furiously. With a pout, he rubs at her kiss with the back of his hand. Then, once she's left, remembers why he'd even come here in the first place.

"Sigyn, I... I was wondering if... if you..."

Except that he'd forgotten what he'd even planned to say.

Loki clears his throat. Eyes to the floor as he rubs at the back of his neck anxiously.

"What I mean is, as you know, tomorrow is the Summer Solstice. And there's to be a great celebration. And, well, I was wondering if you had any interest in going?"

"Oh, yes!" The girl exclaims, making Loki's heart jump in excitement.

"You do?" He asks eagerly.

"Aye!" She replies, just as eager. "Thor promised to take me! I'm so excited!"

"Thor..."

His little heart sinks.

"Are you going?" She happily asks. "Mayhap we can all meet up!"

Oblivious, Sigyn had misunderstood his intentions. It wasn't so much that he was interested if she was going, but whether or not she was interested in going with _him_.

"Oh, me? Nay." Loki sets his silver tongue to work. Putting up a wall of indifference to hide his suffering behind. "Tis just a bunch of dancing and maypoles and music and stuff. Not my sort of thing, really."

The girl's bright face wilts slightly.

"Oh." She says soft, her voice touched with a hint of sadness. "I was really hoping to see you there."

"Yeah, well, you have fun with Thor, alright? I'm sure you'll have a lovely time."

He plays it cool, like it's no big deal at all. Like it isn't killing him that she'll be going with his elder brother, Thor. And not him.

The oaf had beaten him to the chase and won. Again. As does he always succeed. One would think Loki would have grown accustomed to it by now, but with each loss, he's only learned to bury down his bitter pain and defeat. To hide his failure behind a smart smile and a realm-famous, or _infamous_ , witty repartee. But this? This is too much to swallow. He can't even pretend to choke down all the hurt.

"Excuse me."

His face hurts from trying to force himself to smile. He can hold the facade no longer. With a curt bow, Loki makes his escape.

Come the morning, he tells himself, all will be forgotten. All will be better by the dawn of the new day. But he's only lying to himself. By the early morning light, Loki feels as low as ever. As lost as he dresses himself in his princely best for the celebration to come.

He'd hoped to avoid the party altogether, but his Father would have none of it. As part of the royal family, tis his responsibility to be present and take part in the festivities. So Loki promised his Mother he'd make an appearance, but that doesn't mean he has to enjoy himself. Tis not like he's bound by any law to have fun.

The Prince finds himself a nice shady spot to plant himself. Someplace where no one will notice or care. Not that anyone _would_ care. They're all too involved with their own merriment. All the joyful little people dressed in their bright colors and smiling faces, while he sticks himself to the shadows. Dressed in all black, he fits right in.

Two by two, happy couples pass him by. Seems everyone has a pair. A match. Everyone but him.

Even unsightly Sif is hitting it off with some young swordsman from her class. But Loki is perpetually alone. Always alone.

Pulling a book from his satchel, Loki tries reading to pass the time, but the music's too loud to concentrate. That and the sound of children laughing. Of everyone having a good time while he's forced to watch from the outside. Removed from the inner circle. Right where he belongs.

From the corner of his eye, Loki spots Sigyn, and upon hearing her sweet laughter, the young godling turns his head. A mistake, he reminds himself. He's only punishing himself by looking. By noticing how pretty she looks in her white cotton dress. The one with the little blue flowers embroidered about the skirt. It looks absolutely lovely on her. As does she look absolutely lovely hung about Thor's thick arm.

This is exactly what he'd been trying to avoid. Seeing the two of them together. The pair compliment each other nicely, he thinks to himself. Like two golden gods. So fair and bright and shining, while he is all so... not. Even Loki must admit, they make for a truly handsome couple. Which only kills him all the more.

The girl wears a ring of wildflowers strung about the crown of her head, along with the grandest smile he's ever seen on her before. Arm in arm, both she and Thor parade around the fairgrounds, laughing it up and having a jolly good time. Which is good, right? She's _supposed_ to be having fun. He _wants_ her to. But not with _him_.

Loki finds himself staring. Pining, even. He can't tear his eyes away no matter how much it hurts him, much like staring at the sun. And the more he watches, the more bitter he becomes until he's absolutely green with envy. Jealous over his half-wit of a brother, Thor. But it's more than that. Morel than just some simple sibling jealousy. As is Sigyn more than just some silly crush. Seeing her with Thor is like watching his heart being ripped from out of his chest. Like it's verily the end of everything. His world is falling to pieces.

They may look grand together, but Thor could never care for her as _he_ does. Thor couldn't give a damn. He could never covet and cherish her. Not like Loki can.

The little godling gets himself all worked up, so much so he doesn't even notice the group of boys approaching.

"HEY! Looky what I found here! It be LITTLE LOKI!"

Loki groans. Not now, he thinks as he sticks his nose back inside his book, trying to appear as if he hadn't heard or been paying any mind to the trio of miscreants from his weapons class as they call for his attention.

This is a perfect example of why he doesn't like to venture outside the palace walls, or even his own bedroom walls for that matter. Civilization can be so... _uncivilized_. To say the least, he and the local flavor don't quite get along all that well.

"Hey, I'm talking to you FREAK!"

Loki grits his teeth at the word but keeps his head down, still pretending that he's reading. Not an easy task when the ringleader of said group snatches away his book and squats down right beside him.

"Now what are you doing out of your castle?" The older boy asks.

"Castle? Don't you mean his CAVE?" One of his cohorts chimes in.

"AYE! Like a bat! A VAMPIRE bat!" Another one adds with a laugh.

"More like a draugr."

"HA! He sure is PALE enough. Like the undead!"

"You think he drinks blood?"

" _Nahhhh_... Look at him. All scrawny and the like. He's as harmless as they come, boys. Why, have you _seen_ the way he handles a sword!?"

Being Thor's smaller, younger, less popular brother makes Loki the perfect target for young punks like these guys. Those so eager to make a name for themselves. To win the attention and affection of the first born Odinson bound for the throne. The daily reminder that Loki's only ever second best, and can't possibly ever hope to achieve anything beyond that. Not even _her_.

"Hey, who's that with your brother?" Mister Popularity questions. "Isn't she that girl you're always hanging with?"

"Whats the matter?" Another asks. "Thor steal your girl, LITTLE Loki?"

"Can you blame her?" The third chuckles. "Think she'll stick around for a little FREAK like him when she can have a REAL man?"

"AND the crown?"

Kids can be so cruel, but he's used to the torment. For him, tis like water off a duck's back. Loki lets them have their laugh, for now, making himself a mental note to place snakes inside their beds once the sun has gone to rest. What he can't stand for, however, is when they set to sinking their barbs into Sigyn.

"Hey... Isn't she that girl that's like a half-breed or something?" One asks, squinting his eyes to get a better look at her from across the field. "You know, the freak girl with a Dwarf for a father?"

"IF that." The other snidely replies. "You know what I heard? I heard her mother's this big time slut. Who knows who her daddy is. For all we know, your Pa could be her daddy!"

He gives his buddy a shove, making the whole group erupt in crude laughter.

"Hel, I'd like to be her daddy."

The perverted little punk hooks his thumbs inside the waistband of his trousers, licking at his lips whilst staring Sigyn down much like a hungry tiger would a piece of meat. Tis a look that Loki doesn't much care for at all.

"Yeah, I bet she'd like that! You think freak girl's as big a whore as her mum?"

"Oh, I'd give my left nut!" One snickers.

"Hel, I'd give her the whole package!" The other ludely grabs at his junk and the rest break into yet another fit of vicious laughter. "You know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I'd like to put a little Asgardian in her."

"Aye! REAL little!"

"Hey! Shut it!"

The youngest son of Odin can feel a growl rumble within. That and this strange chill coming over him, deep inside his blood. A sensation which is new and unknown to the little Prince, like ice inside his veins. It would be frightening if he weren't already filled with such rage.

"Hey, I think we've made the little freak mad!" One observes.

"Bet he's got a thing for the half-breed." Another implies.

"The FREAK likes the FREAK!" The other exclaims antagonistically, clapping his hands together. "How adorable!"

The leader gets his face right up to Loki's, nearly touching noses with the seething Prince. Not a wise choice.

"What's wrong, LITTLE Loki?" He provokes. "Don't like us talking bad about your little FREAK whor-"

And that's when he freaking loses it.

Loki lunges for the kid's throat, knocking him to the ground and the two begin to tussle, rolling about on the ground like a pair of wild animals. Loki's absolutely vicious. Feral as he fights his way on top. Sitting high on the kid's chest as he beats on him most brutally. Just having at it. Tears stinging at his eyes as he punches him in the face repeatedly. Punches until his knuckles are swollen and raw, and the pair of them are covered in blood.

The crowds have ceased their celebrating. Everyone turns to pay notice and stare. Including Sigyn and Thor.

At first the kid's friends stand around and do nothing. Mayhap they're too shocked to intervene or mayhap they simply don't want to endure Loki's wrath along with the other self-righteous son of a Nobleman brat. But after a few good hits, they finally decide to step in and rip the Prince off him.

"Hold 'im steady!"

Loki thrashes about, but they hold his arms tight, keeping him restrained as their bloodied and bruised ringleader staggers to his feet.

"I don't care WHO you are son of Odin." He shouts at Loki, punching him in the gut. The Prince's knees buckle and give way as he hits him again. The only thing keeping him upright are the other two kids holding tight to his arms. "Second in line BASTARD!"

The young Lord reaches for his sword, pulling it from its scabbard.

"I think tis time I teach you some godsdamned respect!"

He holds the blade to Loki's throat, but before he can inflict his revenge, big brother comes to save the day. And with a mighty swing of his pre-teen fist, knocks the ruffian clear across the field.

"Never hold a sword to my brother." The elder Odinson growls.

Eyes narrowed and menacing, he then sets his sights on the pair of boys still holding steady to Loki. They immediately drop him to the ground.

"W-We was just playing! Swear!"

"Aye! S-Swear!"

They're shaking, they're so frightened of Thor, their future King, as Loki lies there in the dirt.

"Touch my brother again and I will end you. Understand?"

Thor rumbles like the coming storm, causing the pair of them to nod their heads and scatter like spooked sheep after a clap of thunder. He then makes his way toward Loki, offering his younger brother his hand, but it's rejected. Loki smacks it away and climbs to his feet all on his own.

"What the Hel was all that about?" Thor bellows.

"Nothing." Loki groans, wiping the blood and dirt from his tunic.

The child winces as he bends to recover his book from the ground. The thing's just as dirty and beaten up as he is. Finding his satchel, Loki stuffs it inside and tosses it over his shoulder.

"Well that sure as Hel didn't look like nothing!" Thor argues.

"Yeah, well, who the Hel asked you to intervene?" Loki hisses in return.

Sigyn steps forward.

"Loki..."

Wide-eyed, the young girl speaks his name, but he cannot bear to look at her. Not when he's been so totally emasculated by his older brother, Thor. And in front of _her_ , no less. Instead, Loki glares down at the grass, gripping at the leather strap to his bag so tight, his wounded knuckles start to bleed again.

"Next time, just stay the Hel out of it." He growls. "Stay the Hel away from _me_."

The little Prince storms his way back to the palace, muttering to himself as he puts distance between him and all the happy, shiny people now returned to their festivities.

"Didn't even want to go to this stupid celebration, anyway..."


	48. The Talk

**THE TALK**

"You can't go starting fights whenever you feel like it, Loki!"

"I didn't START anything!"

"Right, so the Duke of Gymirsgard's son broke his nose HOW, exactly?"

Loki says not a word, just continues to stare blankly at the wall beyond his father, which only causes further aggrevation for the short-tempered King of Asgard.

"What were you THINKING, son?" Odin shouts, his face red with rage at his most troublesome child.

Until finally, Loki can take no more of it.

"THEY WERE SPEAKING OUT OF LINE, ALRIGHT?" Loki shouts in return, his little voice cracking with emotion. "They were saying horrible things about Sigyn."

Realizing his outburst, Loki looks down at his torn up knuckles. His hands folded neatly in his lap.

"You taught me to defend a Lady's honor..." He peeps softly.

Silence fills the room, where neither father nor son say a word.

Odin sighs, rubbing at his eyepatch. Tis moments like these which make his fantom eye ache. He can practically feel the thing twitching from someplace far, far away.

He lets his nerves cool before taking a seat on the bed beside Loki. His blood pressure returns to a steady rhythm before allowing himself to speak.

"You care for the girl greatly, don't you?" The father asks most sincere.

The little Prince nods, but still says nothing. His head still focused on his lap.

"Do you love her?" Odin pries a little further.

Loki looks up at his father, completely perplexed by such a question as that.

Odin chuckles to himself softly.

"This isn't a test." He assures, coaxing the boy to answer honestly. "There is no shame in love. It doesn't make you any less a man to admit such feelings, I promise you that."

"Like how you love Mother?" Loki asks quietly, picking at a scab.

"Aye." Odin confirms. "I love your mother deeply. Just as I love Thor. Just as I love _you_."

The old man places a firm, fatherly hand atop his son's, preventing the boy from picking at his wounds any further.

Loki looks up into his father's one eye, so wise and filled with such wisdom, such hope for him, his youngest son. Tis not a look that Loki's much accustomed to seeing. Especially in _him_. Mother, sure. But Father? These heart to hearts are seldom few and far between.

"Aye." The child confides, nodding at the floor. "I love her."

The All-father pats his son's hand and smiles.

"I think tis time we discuss something." He replies in a rare tender tone. "Something of great import."

But the knock at the door interrupts their discussion. Tis a talk that they would never have. Not the one that Odin has in mind, at least.

Frigga slowly opens the bedroom door, peeking her head into the dimly-lit room.

"Might the _prisoner_ have a visitor?" She asks in a smiling tone. A happy bit of sarcasm which only a mother can provide.

"Don't be so morbid, wife." Odin rises from the child's bed with a groan.

He gives his boy a pat on the knee and adds, "Another time, then."

But another time will never again present itself.

From behind the Queen Mother, little Sigyn pokes her head, timid to enter the room, but Frigga coaxes her along. With her she brings a sliver of chocolate cake, much to the All-father's chagrin. His son's in the process of being punished, not rewarded for his crimes. But one smirk of the All-mother and King Odin knows he has no say in the matter.

With a heavy sigh, the All-father follows as his Queen takes her leave, shutting the door behind him and leaving the pair of children alone inside Loki's bedroom chamber.

For a moment, neither say a word to one another. Loki's still far too embarrassed from the situation earlier. Ashamed of Sigyn having witnessed him getting his arse handed to him, only for big brother to come charging to the rescue. As is Sigyn aware of his dour mood, even if she doesn't fully understand _why_ , thus deciding to come visit in hopes of cheering up her best friend.

"Your mother said it was alright if I saved you a slice." The girl speaks up, breaking the awkward silence. "I was afraid they'd all get eaten before you got a piece. There was this man with fiery hair and a voracious appetite..." She trails, recalling the fellow who'd nearly eaten the entire buffet table down to the very last morsel. "Anyway, here you have it."

Sigyn goes to offer him the plate. Loki reaches out to accept, but then remembers the poor state of his hands and pulls away, placing them back inside his lap.

"Thank you, but I'm not hungry." He declines.

Deflated, Sigyn stares down at the cake in her hands, not sure what to do with herself now that he's rejected her offering.

"Why don't you have it?" Loki suggests.

With great big eyes, her attention shoots to his direction.

"Oh nay!" She exclaims quickly, her cheeks flushed. "I couldn't possibly... I brought it for you. Tis yours!"

"And I'd like for you to have it." Loki objects. "You know... To make up for ruining the celebration."

"But you didn't ruin the -"

The injured Godling holds up a hand in protest, cutting her off.

"Please, I insist."

Again Sigyn stares down at the cake, this time with a hint of a grimace, making Loki have to laugh. The Godling smiles at her fondly. Only he could pick a girl with an aversion to sweet things. Which is no wonder why he likes her so. Just as the other children had said. She's a _freak_. Just like him.

With an exaggerated sigh, Loki relents.

"Fine. Come here. We'll share it."

He pats at the spot on the bed next to him and she obliges, plunking herself down proper right beside him. At first, Sigyn tries to hand Loki the only fork, as she'd only thought to bring the one, but then remembers his busted hands and decides tis best to keep it for herself.

Taking a scoop, the girl sets about to feed him, which only makes the little Prince blush madly as she stuffs the cake inside his mouth. One big bite for Loki and a tiny little dainty bit for herself.

Quiet returns as they sit side by side, eating the sweet treat together in silence. A comfort as his father had practically nagged his ear off. Sigyn doesn't barrage him with questions, which he's ultimately thankful for because he really doesn't want to have to tell her what all the fighting was about. That those boys had it coming. That he _loves_ her. And he'd do _anything_ to protect her. Even going so far as to break the Duke of Gymirsgard's son's nose with his bare fists.

"Sigyn?" Loki asks softly once all the cake has been finished. "Am I a freak?"

Placing the fork down on the plate, Sigyn glances at the boy quizzically.

"Nay." She replies. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason."

"Did those boys say something? Is that why you -"

"Nay!" Loki quickly lies, immediately ceasing her suspicions. "There really is no reason. I don't know why I even brought it up. Forget I said anything, alright?"

But that's hardly the end of it. Touched with sadness, Sigyn stares down at her empty plate.

"But _I_ am, aren't I?" She peeps softly. " _I'm_ a freak."

Loki bites his tongue. He really shouldn't have said anything. Now he's gotten her upset.

"It's okay. I know I'm different. The Dwarven children see it, too." Sigyn confides in a small voice. "I'm not like them. I'm not like _anyone_."

"Nay, you're not." He confirms, earning himself a surprised look of hurt. Loki grins before adding, "You're better. You're unique. And I like you just the way you are. You're _perfect_. Even if you are a freak."

Tis now Sigyn's turn to blush, tucking a wisp of honeyed hair behind one of her sweet, little clipped ears. The young Lady shyly averts her eyes from that of Loki's mischievous gaze whilst nibbling at her bottom lip to keep from smiling too wide.

"Seriously, I lie awake at night thinking of your face and how it nauseates me so." The Godling of Lies jests, making Sigyn giggle. Such a sound is like music to his ears.

"You're such a liar, Lock!" She laughs, giving him a shove.

Loki falls back on his bed, laughing along as he grabs for Sigyn's arm, pulling her down with him. He laughs so good and hard that he forgets all about the pain in his hands and in his gut. And in his heart. Together, both he and Sigyn roll about on the bed, laughing until all the hurting is as good as gone. Until finally they come to rest in a huff of breathless giggles and a tangle of limbs.

It's then that Loki notices something... _new_. That the freeze inside his blood was not the only change to come over him this day. That Sigyn lying on the bed with him as she is right now, all twisted in the sheets, hair a mess and skin flushed a bewitching rosy hue, it has awoken something else inside him. This _need_. A confusing new feeling which he has never felt before. Along with the strange swelling in his nethers.

As he'd admitted to his father, Loki knows he loves Sigyn. For that, he is certain. But it has always been an innocent love of sorts. Noble and pure. Whereas this is something else entirely. A feverish yearning. Desire, as for the first time the young Prince notices Sigyn not only for the girl who holds his heart, but as an attractive young woman, budding with such delights that makes the Godling's loins ache.

Lying on the bed beside her, Loki panics. Silently begging Sigyn not to notice the engorgement in his trousers as the girl snuggles in beside him, scooting her rump right up to the pesky little lump growing bigger and harder by the second. Loki bites at his lip, stifling a shaky moan as the sweet curvature of her ass brushes against his clothed erection. Those tender bits which feel so good he knows it not to be proper. Wrapping his arms around her, the boy shifts his hips to create a bit of space between them.

This must be " _the talk_ " his father had meant for him. Not at all thinking that such a discussion would actually have nothing to do with his emerging hormones, but instead of his species. Of Loki's Jotun heritage. And Sigyn's unique ancestry, as well. The link shared between them all.

Grabbing hold of Loki's hands, Sigyn begins inspecting his torn knuckles.

"You should get these bandaged." She tisks motherly, completely innocent to Loki's predicament.

"I will. I will..." The Prince groans, pretending as if nothing's amiss.

"I'm serious!" Sigyn strains her neck to look at him. "It could get infected if you don't take better care."

With a little smile, Loki rests his chin against her shoulder, pushing away her hair with the tip of his nose.

"Would it make you happy if I promise to go to the infirmary after you leave?" He asks of the girl in a cheeky tone.

"Aye." She nods her head.

"Then I promise." He replies plainly enough.

"No lies?"

"No lies."

This makes the girl happy. With a warm smile, Sigyn sits upright in bed and Loki follows along with her, grabbing hold of the fur throw blanket so he may hold it in his lap to conceal his very own and very large happiness for her.

"You're lucky, you know. You could have gotten yourself seriously inured, or even _killed_!" She lectures him further, her voice laced with concern. "No more roughhousing with the other boys, understood?"

Again, Loki groans. This time rolling his eyes.

"UNDERSTOOD?" She repeats herself, now more stern.

"Understood." He reluctantly and ultimately agrees, if only to make her happy. Which it does.

Content with his answer, Sigyn says her farewells and takes her leave. And true to his promise, Loki will verily make haste to the infirmary to patch up his wounded hands. But first, he's one more use for them, yet.

Removing the blanket from his lap, Loki stares down at the surging bulge in his pants.

First things first, there's the matter of his little _problem_ to attend to.


	49. The Cold Hard Truth

**THE COLD HARD TRUTH**

Everything hurts. His head. His chest. His bones. Muscles. Skin. Eyes. _Everything_.

Loki feels like total rubbish. Like he's been put through the ringer. Out on an all night rager with his once elder brother Thor and he'd gone and drunk twice his weight in mead. But that's not the sick aftertaste of alcohol on his sterling silver tongue, but that of bitter blood. Nor is it a hangover that he's currently nursing, but the lovely effects of having been beat upon by a horde of angry Trolls. And one very pissed off Valkyrie.

Speaking of which, where is that winged woman?

With a heavy groan, Loki sits himself upright from the stony earth in which he's found himself, the floor to some fashion of cave. Tis a small nook in the side of the mountain way up high, reaching well atop the cloud cover. He can tell by the thinness to the air as he inhales a deep, trying breath, his lungs rattling about inside his chest, heavy with phlegm and blood. That and the fact that when he looks out beyond the caves entrance, all he can see is nothing but sky.

The Liesmith's knees shake as he brings himself to his feet, one hand to the wall to keep his balance as he sets to clear his throat, hocking a pleasant little clot of bloody loveliness all over the dark cave floor. He then begins the process of popping every single muscle in his poorly broken body. And one pesky rib that doesn't quite want to stay in its place.

One would think that such a little inlet as this would be cold and dank, but tis actually quite warm and inviting. Homey, even. There's a small fire set in the center, keeping the cave alight and toasty. Beside it, his thick fur dries after having been recently washed and cleaned of any blood and gore. The result of his horse having been torn apart. As has his saddlebag been recovered. Though that particular item is still a little worse for wear.

Seems Sigyn's been a very busy girl while Loki's been out cold, for however long that might be. A good measure of time by the look of things. But as to where she might be now...

Before he can even finish his thought, Sigyn returns to the cave, wings outstretched to slow her descent as she lands just inside the entrance. The motion creates a great gust which blows through the hollow with a loud, screeching whoosh, kicking up a bit of loose dirt from the ground and nearly extinguishing the fire. It crackles and sparks as the air begins to settle.

"You're awake." She acknowledges, dropping a bit of kindling on the ground by where she's landed, but not taking another step inside.

Loki glares at the woman.

"You lied to me." He says coldly.

"You sound upset."

Lowering her wings so that they now trail behind her, Sigyn kneels. Concentrating solely on stacking the wood that she'd brought.

"You LIED to me." Loki repeats himself, now more of a growl. He's hardly in a gaming mood, nor is he at all impressed with the woman's ability to catch the liar off his guard.

Sigyn sighs. With a roll of her pale eyes, she returns Loki's gaze glare for glare.

"I didn't lie to YOU, I lied to THEORIC." She returns. "WHICH, might I remind, is nothing compared to YOUR heaping pile of lies. So don't get me started on THAT lovely bit of irony."

"Oh, don't change the subject." The Liesmith groans.

"I'm not." Sigyn replies with a bite to her words. "YOU'RE the one being such a big, fucking hypocrite, Loki."

With a seething pout, Loki shuts his trap tight. He's still so very mad at her, and he doesn't even really understand _why, e_ specially when she's so verily right. Loki can't be upset with her for bending the truth when he, himself, had lied. And on more than one occasion.

Still, such a thing offers very little comfort.

Mayhap he's so cross because the Liesmith thought he _knew_ her. Sigyn, the sweet little girl who'd never been anything but completely honest with him. Who he'd _believed_ in. Trusted. Even when he couldn't trust himself. _Especially_ when he couldn't trust himself. Loki could always trust in her. And she had lied to him. No matter how trivial the lie may seem, it means everything to him that he means so little to her. That he doesn't deserve her complete and total honesty. He had lowered his defenses, lain down his walls, just so she could hurt him. Just like everyone else.

"And anyway, when I said I wasn't Valkyrie, it might as well have been as good as truth." Sigyn returns to finishing stacking up the wood, eyes fixed on completing her task. "I'd forsaken Valhalla. Have _you_ to thank for that, I suppose."

"Me?" Loki hides his surprise.

Only half listening, Loki already begins to fill in the gaps. Putting together the puzzle with what pieces he has. Now that he knows _what_ she is, he can finally put to rest one of the greatest mysteries of his youth. Where Sigyn has been all this time. Why'd she go away. Why she'd never returned. The answer is Valhalla. Because she's a Valkyrie. But that's still not enough reason for him. No reason could ever be good enough to patch up the hole she'd left after going away.

"Have you ever put any thought into what would happen to your soul when you die? I mean, should you actually die for _real_?" Sigyn asks him plainly, staring at the neat stack of kindling she's made, not sure what to do with herself now that she's finished with it. "Because I'll tell you this, tis not Valhalla where you're headed."

Standing, Sigyn smoothes out her skirt. She supposes this discussion has been a long time coming, but that doesn't make it any easier. If anything, it only makes it harder. There's so much she needs to say to him. To _tell_ him. Things that are so very difficult for her to say. But if she wants to move past this, all the lies, then tis best they proceed forward.

But where oh where to start? They've so much catching up.

"I'd heard you'd died a hero, you know. The second time, that is. Which now I know even that was a lie..." Sigyn looks down at her hands as she wipes away the dirt. "But even if it weren't, there is no great act or good deed grand enough to outweigh all the crimes you've committed. You've been marked. Blacklisted from Valhalla as per my mother's orders."

Her feathers seem to shiver as she inhales deeply, letting it out in a shallow, ragged breath. Much like the ghosts of the palace, such memories are painful for her, digging up old wounds of the past.

"She made it so that we could never be together. I feared I'd never see you again" Sigyn says softly, nearly a whisper as she idly plays with her hands. "I left because it wasn't fair. I left because I _loved_ you."

"If you loved me so much, why not just tell me? Why didn't you leave Valhalla sooner?" Loki asks her angrily. "Why wait until I'd DIED? I SAW you at my trial, you know. Why did you never visit while I WASTED AWAY inside my cell, _huh_? Or mayhap for Thor's coronation? Or the year before that? Or even the CENTURY before that? So many summers... And not even the decency of a note? Where did you GO, Sigyn?"

"Loki..."

"NAY! I want to know! What was so damned important that you'd ABANDONED me?"

And there it is. The true cause of his rage. Because either as a newly-born babe, cast out to die abandoned and alone, or as the second-born heir to the righteous throne of Asgard, cast aside and forgotten, Loki has always known the bitter sting of betrayal by those he's cared for most. His blood father, Laufey. Frigga. Odin. Thor... However great or small, they always leave him in the end.

"Loki, you don't understand... I hadn't _abandoned_ you. I had every intention to see you again." Sigyn pleads for him to believe her. "But Valhalla is a land that exists outside the pages of time. It is not bound by the natural laws of progression. A day can verily feel like a century. And a century, but a day. By the time I'd returned... so much had changed. And not just the seasons. We both had grown from the days we were children. You'd become -"

"A _monster_?"

There's a cold, hard look to his eyes when he says it. That word which has followed him most of his adult life. Haunted him since finding out about his true parentage. Tis a word which defines him. And now he stares at her accusingly, knowing full well she thinks him a monster just the same.

"That is what you were going to say, is it not? Don't try to deny it." Loki continues on. "I'd heard what you'd said to Sif back at your family's homestead. I'm a monster. Am I wrong?"

Sigyn looks him square in the eye now. She doesn't much care for his accusations, _or_ his tone of voice. Here she is bearing her soul to him, offering him an explanation that he doesn't even verily deserve, but out of love and respect she'll give it to him anyway. And yet he cares for it not. Going so far as to throw in her face what she had thought was a private conversation between she and Sif. He may be hurting, but that's no reason for him to take it out on her. So as far as Sigyn's concerned, she's done playing nice. She's done trying to be kind. He wants the cold hard truth? Fine. She'll give it to him.

"Aye, Loki. You're a monster." Sigyn confirms strong and clear, not backing down. She refuses to feel sorry for his eavesdropping. "You've murdered countless in your quest for a throne. Invaded an entire realm, even!"

"I meant to RULE." He explains to her just as strongly. "Not KILL."

"You meant to CONQUER!" She corrects him. "You came down from the skies with the means to enslave an entire people, Loki. You were a tyrant, not a king. Not even a God."

"What do you know?" He scoffs. "You weren't there!"

"You're right. I wasn't." She defends heatedly. "Nor were YOU there to recover all the souls of those you'd slaughtered in cold blood. All those innocents. And for what? Some stupid vendetta? Because you felt cheated? As you WASTED AWAY inside the luxury of your cell, who was left to pick up all the pieces of all that you'd destroyed? So, aye. You ARE a monster, Loki. And it has NOTHING to do with the color of your skin."

Head held high and proud, Loki flinches, not expecting her to go there, to bring up his Jotun ancestry. A sore subject for the Laufeyson. One which does so much more than sting. It cuts right to the very core. He's physically taken aback.

"Frost Giant or not, if you act like a monster, then you become one." Sigyn continues, pushing the conversation into more sensitive grounds. "Tis not your blood which defines you, YOU do. Only you get to write your own story."

"And what story would that be? What story is it this time you would like to hear, my love?" Loki asks, taking a step forward with his arms outstretched. Pleading. "Mayhap the story of the dishonored Prince cast out of his own home? Or perhaps the lowly Frost Giant? The stunted whelp, an embarrassment, left in the cold alone to DIE? _Nay_... I know! Why not the story of the MONSTER you so loathe? The one who thought himself a man? Who tricked himself into believing he could win the heart of the fairest maiden in all the nine realms? Who was only lying to himself in hopes that mayhap she would love him back."

Tears cloud his eyes now, threatening to fall though he wills them stay at bay. His voice shakes with emotion.

"But what hope does a monster have in winning _you_?"

Outside, the wind howls. Cold air swirls about the entrance to the cave where inside, all is silent. Loki says his peace then calmly finds his seat, turning towards the wall, away from the look of surprise on Sigyn's face. Tis making him uncomfortable the way she's staring at him. As is speaking of his Jotun heritage uncomfortable for him as well. Tis a topic he verily enjoys avoiding at all costs.

"You think I care that you're a Frost Giant?" Sigyn speaks up. "ME? A dirty half-breed?"

"Don't call yourself that..." Loki mutters beneath his breath.

The only thing Loki hates more than being reminded of his Jotnar blood, is having to hear Sigyn put herself down. It makes him cringe every time he thinks of how her mother clipped her ears to make her appear more "normal". Or how those boys dared call the girl a "freak" simply due to her mixed blood. Tis something he'll never get over.

"Well, I AM! I KNOW what I am. As have I come to terms with it. WHAT I am does not make WHO I am or who I want to be. Just like how what you are and who you are are nary one and the same."

Loki sits with his eyes to the wall. Brooding. Though Sigyn knows he can hear her. She knows she's getting through to him. At least she hopes she is.

"What I'm trying to say, Loki, is that the Frost Giant is not the monster. You are." She continues, now more sympathetically. "But who you are can _change_. You don't _have_ to be the monster. You could go back. _We_ could go back. You could be my Lock again. Who you were -"

"Was a lie. Sigyn." Loki cuts in with a sigh, staring down at the cavern floor. "The boy you knew never existed, at all. I'm not an Odinson. I'm not even a Prince _or_ a King.. I'm nothing."

"And what of me? The girl that you once knew? Now that you know the truth of me, was I a lie as well?" Sigyn asks him. "When we were children, all those years ago, up inside your tower you stole a kiss from me. Tell me, was that a lie? Was our entire childhood together, all those summers, everything we'd shared and done... Was it all for not?"

Loki remains silent, looking inward as he stares off into the ether but a million miles away.

"And Theoric? You said it wasn't a lie for you. That you've loved me since the moment we first met." She begs. "Were you lying when you told me to trust in my heart?"

Loki sighs. His head slumps forward on his shoulders. His neck burdened by the weight of it as if suddenly it weighed half a million pounds. He's tired. Completely drained. As is this conversation draining for him. Confronting such obsticles is never easy for the Liesmith. Tis always more pleasant to just avoid such things altogether. Or destroy that which burdens him.

"What do you want of me, woman?"

"I want the truth." Sigyn pleads. "You want me to be honest with you? I think I deserve the same respect, don't you think?"

"The truth..." Loki half-laughs, eyes fixed on the floor. "You ask for truths of the God of Lies?"

"I ask of my _husband_." She corrects him, earning his attention. "I ask of my best friend. My Lock. The little boy I fell in love with so very long ago. The child that I _know_ is still in there, Loki, whatever you may say. I just _know_ it."

She sounds like Thor, still so very hopeful for him that he can change, go back to the man that he once was before all this... _chaos_. That maybe somehow he can be saved. Fixed of all that is so wrong and broken.

"I want to understand." Sigyn begs of him. "Please, just help me understand."

And when he looks up into her soft, pleading eyes, Loki thinks for a second that mayhap he _can_. At least he wants to believe he can. To go back to the way things were. So he tells her. Everything. Because at this point, what else does he have to lose? The Wordsmith weaves a tale unlike any he has ever told before. A tale of betrayal. Of hurt and disgrace. How he'd murdered his own father, his own blood, to prove himself to Odin. The tried and failed genocide of Jotunheim, the land of his birth. How he'd been stripped of his title as Prince. His fall and return as the puppet of a Mad Titan. His assault on Midgard. All of it. Loki sugar coats not a thing.

"I never even wanted the throne. Not really. All I ever really wanted was to be Thor's equal. To be worthy. To have their attention. Their love... I only wanted to be noticed. Tis funny how things work out. I'd obtained the crown but at the price of anonymity. I had to wear Odin's face. No one could know it was me or that I was even alive. Which was fine for a while, I suppose. I had all the peoples admiration and respect. And I guess I thought I could keep the lie going forever. That was the extent of my plan, really. Which wasnt really much of a plan if you think about it. Just rule Asgard as Odin for all eternity. Or the end of days. Whichever came first. And then you just had to pop up out of the blue and throw a wrench into my already flawed machine and I... I don't know. I guess it all just fell apart." He reveals slowly. "That's where Theoric stepped in."

Sigyn stands in the entryway, listening to Loki's story with an open mind even if there are parts of it that upset her, like when he'd sent the Destroyer after his own brother whom he loves. Still she listens to his wrenching tale because she knows that every word of it is true. And her very heart is breaking because of it.

"I must admit, when I first saw you in the garden, I had no idea who you were. I thought you a trespasser, it had been so long since we last met. But then as realization overcame me, and to my utter disbelief... Gods, Sigyn. You've no idea how terribly I wanted to tell you the truth right there and then."

"Then why didn't you?" Sigyn asks. Tis the first she's spoken up since he'd began.

Loki shrugs.

"I was supposed to be dead, for starters." He answers plainly. "Not to mention a disgrace. A war criminal. Murderer. A Laufeyson. A monster... None of which were worthy of you. And so I chose the illusion of Theoric because with him I thought I could have a fresh start. Give you the good husband you so verily deserve. It seemed like the only way I could. So I juggled between All-father and Theoric and somewhere along the way the balancing act took a tumble. The longer I'd waited to tell you, the harder it got. I became so immersed in my lies, I was drowning. It was killing me, Sigyn, keeping from you the truth. I couldn't live with myself any longer. I only wish I told you sooner, then mayhap we wouldn't be in this mess. I'm sorry I didn't. And I'm sorry I hurt you. Truly, I am."

Lies come easy to the Silver-tongue, but the truth is so much harder. So much worse. But it's time that he stop lying. Not only to Sigyn, but to himself.

"The truth is, you deserve the world, Sigyn." Loki says sure as anything, his voice deceptively strong despite the lump in his throat and the dreaded heaviness in his chest. "But I don't deserve you."

Sigyn stands there staring back at him. She hadn't said more than four words the whole time that he'd confessed his soul. Her face blank. Features emotionless. Just taking it all in. Absorbing his story as he dared to bare for her his bleeding heart unguarded. And once he's finished, once he's laid all his sins out on the table for her witness, she then makes her decision.

"You idiot." Finally, she growls. "You're a complete moron, you know that?"

She decides to love him anyway.

"You _are_ my world."

Loki's head perks right up, roused from his brooding. His face colored with skepticism. There's no way he'd heard her correctly. Not after the story he'd told.

"You've no idea what I'd went through, Loki. I'd lost my father. Frigga, the only mother I'd ever truly known. And _you._ All on the same day." She tells him, no longer holding back. "Everyone I'd ever loved had been taken from me. My whole _world_ had been shattered and I'd never felt more hopeless or alone. Worse than anything you can imagine. Losing you? It _ruined_ me. And then I'd met Theoric and he... _Gods_ , he made me feel _whole_ again. But even that was a lie. Not because of your disguise, but because he was a poor substitute for you. The _real_ you. _My_ Loki."

"I guess what I'm trying to say is you're _right_ , Loki. I _can't_ kill you. I won't." She admits, returning to a conversation they'd had earlier in the woods. Where he'd tried to get her to confess that she'd still had feelings for him. That she won't kill him because she still loves him. "No matter how aggravating you may become, I could never kill you because the truth is, should any harm come to you, should you be taken from me again, I know for certain that I won't survive it. I wouldn't want to." Sigyn confesses to him. "You wanted to know why I've gone through such trouble to save you time and time again?" She asks, her eyes filling with tears. "Because I love you, Loki."

The smallest squeak escapes from the back of her throat. The sudden rush of emotion has made it difficult to speak, choking her on her words. But still Sigyn tries, even as the tears begin to fall.

"No matter the horrors... I love you, still."


	50. Beast With Two Backs

**As the title of this chapter states, this is gonna get a little MATURE. Let's make some MISCHIEF! enJOY!**

* * *

 **BEAST WITH TWO BACKS**

Without even realizing it, Loki's up on his feet and across the short length of the cave before she can even breathe another word. Wrapping his arms around his woman so strong and so tight, swearing to himself that he'll never let her go. No matter what. They'd have to saw his arms off at the joints and chain his bloody stumps to a mighty boulder should the fates ever will the pair apart. He would gladly bathe in acid than to never feel this way again.

Loki buries Sigyn deep inside his embrace, taking her head to his chest as he whispers words of love into her swirling gilded hair. His fingers coil tightly against the base of her skull as he softly lets her weep. Giving her a chance to finally let it all out. Everything she'd had pent up for far too long. As does he feel himself like crying. Tears of joy to hold her once again.

"You've no idea how long I've dreamed to hear you say that to me." Loki says as he pulls back slightly to look at her dear face. Wearing a subtle smirk, he adds, "The _real_ me, that is."

So many times now the Shapechanger has had to take a backseat, listening to Sigyn as she'd profess her love to "Theoric", to an illusion and not him. Never Loki. As if he were only an outsider looking in. Only ever observing her affection but never truly taking part. How good it feels now to hear her say his true name followed by those three little words that mean more than everything to him. That he'd never in all his lifetimes thought that he would ever hear again.

"I love you."

Through the mist in her eyes, Sigyn smiles back at him as he wipes away her tears. Using the pad of his thumb, Loki traces along the path that they'd traveled. Over the apple of her cheek and along the length of her jaw, coming to a rest at her sweet little chin just below her bottom lip. There they stay for a moment, with not a word to be said between them. They don't have to. They share a single mind. Loki knows exactly what she's thinking, he can read it in her eyes.

Everything he'd said was the truth. Every. Single. Word.

There's still something between them. This pull. This tension. And she wants him. Wants him more than she's wanted anything before in all her entire life. And Sigyn knows that Loki feels exactly the same way. His excitement is more than evident as it presses hard against her body.

The tips of his fingers turn frigid, glazing her sweet mouth in a fine sheen of frost as his thumb brushes slow across her sugary lips. So cold that Sigyn can see her own breath. It escapes her parted lips in a fine veil of vapor.

Loki tilts his head, his face moves closer, examining the pleasing effects of his cold upon her body. Those emerald eyes bore into hers so deep and piercing, making her lips quiver but ever so slightly. Not from the cold, but in burning desire. That ardent anticipation as Loki leans in further for a kiss. Sigyn hungers for him just as he is hungry, starved of his arctic caress.

Then without further warning, they strike all at once. Sigyn grips the back of Loki's neck firmly for leverage as he grabs hold of her thigh, just beneath her buttocks, lifting her into his arms. Sigyn wraps her legs around his torso, lips locked with his as he carries her over to the fur by the fire.

The woman weighs a half-ton with those treacherous wings, but Loki doesn't even grumble. The struggle is hardly a bother when they're both so ready to go. Hel, he'd lift an entire mountain if it allowed him the privilege to lay with her. So what's a few feathers between lovers?

And speaking of feathers, Loki's more than gentle as he lays her on her back, careful of her massive wings which she tucks back behind her shoulder blades.

They're such curious things, her wings. The Mischief Maker can't help but wonder how in Hel he'd never noticed. Of all the times he'd had her from behind, never once did he spy anything out of the ordinary. Not even a mark. He's half-inclined to flip her over and examine them more closely, but as curious as he is, his need is by far greater. And with her sweet tongue swirling round inside his head, nothing else matters.

With nimble fingers, Sigyn begins work on the bindings to his pants. Loki breaks from their kiss, his lips roaming to her supple earlobes where he nibbles and sucks on her soft, tasty flesh, earning himself such lovely little mewls and shivers for more.

His breath is like ice to her as Loki runs his tongue along the shell of her ear. A foreplay which would always make her quiver when performed by "Theoric", but now tis so much stronger. Her whole body seems to shake. Thighs trembling uncontrollably as he drags his teeth across her neck. And he knows exactly what he's doing to her. What she likes and how to elicit all his most favorite sounds. Smiling like the devil as he makes her eyes roll to the back of her head.

But she won't let him have all the fun.

Loki lets out a deep sigh as Sigyn frees him of his suffering. His leather pants were becoming uncomfortably tight until she reaches inside and retrieves his stiff member, pulling it forth from the unyielding material.

The woman holds the heft of his blade firmly in her small but strong hand, making his hips rock as she rubs up and down the length of it, familiarizing herself with its girth as if for the very first time. As does she wield him well, making herself his master in but a single stroke. He abides her command.

Loki eagerly sits himself upright, pulling his tunic up and over his head before tossing it aside. Then off go the rest, much to Sigyn's viewing pleasure. Loki pretends not to notice her staring. Biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from grinning, he so loves the attention. Though even the Trickster must admit, he is a little nervous not wearing Theoric's skin. What the Lady sees is what she gets. There is no mask in which to hide behind. Luckily, Sigyn seems more than happy with what she spies. Drinking in his svelte, lean form like a tall flagon of wine.

At first, she's surprised by how similar Loki looks like Theoric. That he hadn't changed very much at all when crafting his illusion. Of course the face is different, but the body type is fairly similar. Sure, Theoric had been a little beefier, as Loki had learned from centuries of experience that women prefer a man with more muscle. Namely they prefer _Thor_. And yet Sigyn admires Loki just as he is, scrawny ass and all.

In the warm amber glow of the fire, Loki looks up from his undressing to catch a glimpse of Sigyn busy with her own bindings. The heavenly sight of those lovely breasts as she removes her armor. Feeling up to his namesake, the God of Mischief decides to help her with the endeavor, relieving the woman of her much too impeding undergarments so that the puckish Prince may partake in her glorious bounty.

Sigyn inhales sharply as one cold hand encompasses the circumference of her breast. The other Loki stuffs inside his greedy mouth, his tongue circling her fat, swollen teet like a kitten suckling for milk. And she loves it. Head thrown back in passion as he feasts upon every inch of her. Nipping and kissing his way down her body until he's reached the sweet nectar between the Goddess' thighs. So hot and juicy and slick with desire, he's no choice but to quell her fires with his icy kiss.

The Lady's hips jump upon first feeling the cold upon her sex. As does she always, even if they've done this but a dozen times before. The sensation is shocking. A feeling that freezes her belly into knots and makes her skin prickle in gooseflesh. A shiver races through her, right up her backbone, making her teeth chatter. Sigyn grabs a firm hold of Loki's raven hair as the Liesmith sets his silver tongue to work, lapping at the sweet, creamy honey pot at her divide.

"Loki..."

The pretentious God grins into her flushed, pink lips at the sound of his own name. Not Theoric's, but _his_. Loki's.

"Again." He breathes against her inner thigh, planting a kiss against her soft, warm flesh. "Say it again? My name?"

Sigyn digs her nail into his scalp, raking her fingers through his hair as she pulls on it tighter, making him groan. The Valkyrie grins in amusement at the God's arrogance. Not to mention that great, big inflated head of his. Loki's silly need to hear her speak his name. She won't give him the satisfaction. The woman may be on her back, but she's hardly his submissive. Not with her knees locked around his neck. He's _hers_ to control and tis best he remember.

But that only makes Loki try harder to get what he so wants. With a sneaky smirk, he nips at Sigyn's delicate skin, making the stubborn woman yelp and shoot upright.

"LOKI!" She shouts, glaring at the tricky Trickster.

Loki snickers at his cunning trick, sitting up on his knees to greet his woman with a smile.

"See?" He says most satisfied with himself. "That wasn't so difficult, now was it?"

Sigyn glares back at him, playing angry with her brow knitted together in a scowl. It makes Loki chuckle at those cute rosy cheeks puffed into a childlike pout. Now _this_ is the Sigyn he remembers. _His_ Sigyn. The young girl who had captured his heart. The woman who makes him want to be a better man. Who makes him feel whole.

The God bridges the gap between he and his Goddess, bringing her naked exquisiteness into his arms. Belly to belly, the pair kneel in embrace atop the fur rug by the fire. Sigyn's wings trail low behind her, a cascading waterfall of shimming white. Loki strokes at her feathers gently, coaxing his love back around to his good graces. Which seems to be working. In no time at all, the Lady melts into his arms.

"Now, tell me you _love_ me." Loki croons, nuzzling his nose into the crook of her neck.

Sigyn rolls her eyes, grinning at how adorable he's acting.

"Why? Or you'll bite me again?" She laughs.

Loki smirks against her throat, feeling the smooth rhythm of her pulse to his lips. There he begins his work again to make her speak the words he so longs of her to say. Lavishing Sigyn's slender neck in such passionate displays of affection, the girl has no choice but to surrender to his roguish charms.

" _Mmmm_... I love you..." Wearing a smile, Sigyn moans, happy to play his little game.

Her head lolls to the side, swooning in his arms as he continues to play upon her flesh. His cold breath tickles at her ear. His voice harsh like gravel as he groans inside her head.

"Tell me you _want_ me." He rasps with his lips pressed to her ear.

Her whole body shudders at the sound. Tis as if she can feel him inside her body. His voice echoing up and down her spine.

Loki grabs at her ass firmly, bringing her pelvis tight against his own. So tight it nearly hurts. There's hardly a molecule of space between them. Nor could they be any closer unless they were of one skin. A beast with two backs.

"Tell me..." He demands again, impatient for her answer.

Sigyn's smile widens. And again, she submits.

"I want you." She sings.

His sack hangs so heavy. Bulging and burdened with seed, it's ready to burst. Loki strokes at his swollen ego, rubbing it against Sigyn's warm, dewy lips. He wets his wick with her essence, rubbing it in all up and down his shaft as if to polish his mighty sword. This game is far too exciting for the Mischief Maker, turning him on to the greatest of lengths.

"Now tell me you nee-"

Sigyn pushes Loki to the ground, forcing him to sit.

"I _need_ you to shut it." She interrupts.

The Lady's grown tired of his games. She wants him _now_. Sigyn climbs atop his lap, straddling his engorgement between her thighs.

"Gods... You're quite lucky you have such a pretty face. Because that big mouth of your-"

Loki quickly lunges forth, straining his neck to reach her lips with his own, surprising Sigyn with a most passionate kiss.

"You mean _this_ mouth?" He grins into his kiss.

With a smile of her own, Sigyn returns his affection. Curling her fingers into his hair so lovingly whilst she kisses him back deep and full.

High in the mountains, at the center of a small, dark cave, the two lovers reunite, finding each other all over again. Everything is as it should be. Everything is right. Loki's sure of it. He's never been more sure of anything in all his entire life. This is right where he belongs. With _her_.

"Are you ready?" Loki asks softly, breaking from their kiss. There's a tenderness to his voice now that he's no longer playing. This care and concern for her as he sweetly traces his fingers down her back. "Because I can alter our surroundings if you like. Mayhap to someplace which better suits you? Like the palace? Anywhere at all. I know this is hardly the romantic setting for-"

Sigyn places a small kiss upon the Wordsmith's lips, quieting his doubtful mind.

"I think it is perfect." She returns just as tender. "The where matters not as long as I have you. Though... Might I make _one_ request?"

"Of course. Anything."

With those big green eyes, Loki glances up at her, curious for what she might ask. To this, Sigyn smirks wickedly.

"Wear the horns?" She asks of him slyly. "Chicks do dig the horns. Or so I've been told."

Loki can't help himself, bursting out in a laugh. Then with a swirl of green magic, the gleaming, golden helmet materializes about his crown from thin air.

"Aye, m'lady." He offers her his most dastardly grin. "As am I so awfully _horny_ for thee."

" _Ha!_ I think you mean _corn-"_

Loki lunges for Sigyn again, devouring the sweet laugh from off her lips. From this point forth, there'll be no further discussion. Now that he's been granted permission, he can't wait a second more. The Liesmith accepts her invitation. His throbbing cock pressed hard against her entrance, he's ready to seek sanctuary within her hallowed walls.

And so they begin.

With wings and horns, their tongues do war, a battle for dominance within the boundary of their skulls. There's the bitter sting of cold as his blade penetrates her defenses. A ramrod which forces through her castle gates.

Down his frigid pole, Sigyn slides as Loki stuffs himself inside her. Slow & deep. Inch by inch, he takes his time, allowing her to get accustomed to his length until there's nothing left. Her warm slit swallows him whole.

Sigyn screws her eyes shut. Mouth hung open in a silent scream as Loki stretches her to the limits, filling her to capacity with his love. Tis hardly their first go and yet no matter how many times they've done this, it doesn't make the deed any easier. Laying with a Giant is not without its unique set of hardships. For example, the searing pain as he tears right through her. That subzero cold which makes her heart feel as if it might verily stop at any moment. So cold it actually feels hot. Like each and every one of her nerve endings are on fire. Like her insides are burning. Thankfully tis not long before the endorphins kick in and the numb takes over. All those pain receptors gives way to pleasure, flooding her brain with absolute ecstasy. There's nothing else like it. And Sigyn's not ashamed to admit she loves every single second of it. Pain and all. Because for better or worse, it beats feeling nothing.

Her hips grind against his pelvis. Titts bouncing as she picks up speed. Sigyn grabs hold of his horns for stability while Loki reaches behind, firmly grasping at the base of her wings, moaning with each thump as she rides him like a steed.

Yet however a stud he may be, the wild at heart force of chaos cannot be kept tamed and stabled for long. He can only sit idly by, the obedient bottom before he needs to rise up and seize control.

Loki takes Sigyn by the thighs as he climbs to his knees again, sitting up on his haunches, lifting her with him. She wraps her legs around his trunk and holds on tight as he begins pumping. Smooth and steady, their bodies move as one. A steady beat to the rhythm of the war drums. The sound of their bodies connecting. Of her cries as he thrusts into her, echoing about the cave in a thrilling crescendo.

Sigyn's wings begin to flutter, twitching as her feathers start to fan and spread. Loki can see it in her face, how close she is to the edge now. As can he feel it. That pressure building all around him. Her slick, wet walls become insufferably tight, coaxing him to finish with his assault upon her body. Still, he pounds away. A low growl rumbling in his belly as he refuses to give in just yet, not when there's still plenty of fight left in him.

In awe, Loki watches as Sigyn rolls her head back, eyes shut tight and aimed towards Valhalla above and beyond. Loki grabs at Sigyn's nape firmly to keep her from falling backwards as she surrenders herself completely to his ultimate control. She's at the mercy of the Mischief God's command, following wherever he leads her, into the throws of victory. But before he may send his men forth to conquer, joining her in the spoils of war, there's just one last thing that he requires. Holding out for but one final conquest.

"SAY MY NAME!" The prideful God beckons.

And she answers. Over and over, Sigyn answers his call. Which being a glutton for the approval of others, the gratification that comes with the praise of his name is a rush far too thrilling to resist. Tis like a drug. Loki can hold back no longer.

His forces charge forth, invading her womb in one great surge. Loki bows his head forward, his forehead rested to her heaving chest, groaning through grit teeth as he empties his payload. Sigyn summons one final cry as he comes inside hard, the frigid burst making her toes curl and the tips of her fingers turn numb with frost.

And so, with his blade sheathed safe inside her, Loki surrenders. His body goes rigid, every muscle constricted in one fragile moment, then relaxes. And then it's over. The tension lifts, melting away into such heavenly bliss. A satisfaction only known to the Laufeyson when lost within her sweet embrace. Nothing else comes close. Nothing ever can nor will. Weary from battle, the lovers find peace within each others arms.

"I love you." Loki pants breathlessly, holding Sigyn tightly in his arms. He tucks her head beneath his protectively. His chin rested atop the crown of her head. "I love you..."

"As do I." She replies, safe inside his love.


	51. Breaking The Ice

**BREAKING THE ICE**

"Say my name... _Seriously?_ "

The lovers remain entwined in embrace. With the fire having long been extinguished from their most vigorous activity, the cave rests dark and quiet. It held little chance to the heavy beating of her wings, now only the smoldering embers remain. A warm subtle glow of life, dancing all about the blackened coals.

"Oh, you loved it!"

The air sits thick with their lovemaking. Humid with sweat and the subtle notes of warm leather and fur. With the wave of his hand, Loki wills the flames back to life. They erupt in a bright flare of green before settling back into a much more steady amber.

"Tell me you didn't love it." He brags.

In the light, Loki can see Sigyn staring at him, nibbling at her lip to keep from giggling. She grins at the Mischievous One cheekily, poking fun at his most macho performance. To this, Loki can only grin in return. Nuzzling his face into the warmth of her neck as he sets to returning the favor. The Trickster makes a little mischief, repeating her name over and over again as she squirms within his grasp. Laughing at his hilarious display as he reenacts exactly as she'd called out his name to him at the climax of their act.

"SIGYN! SIGYN!" Loki mocks in a shrill falsetto, bouncing Sigyn up and down on his lap. "HARDER! HARDER! AYE... YES, SIGYN, YES! YES! SIGYN! _FUUuuu.._."

Tis then that Loki's knees become jelly. He can't support their combined weight any longer and loses his balance. With a grunt, the Mischief Maker falls back onto the fur and Sigyn along with him, laughing as they fall victim to gravity, tumbling together to the ground.

"You shouldn't tease the woman who'd saved your life, you know." Sigyn playfully scolds, propping her chin atop his chest. "Especially one who could so easily kill you, herself."

"But you won't. You said so yourself." Loki returns just as playful. "So as far as I'm concerned, I've got a free pass to have all sorts of fun."

"You're going to make me regret my decision, aren't you?" She sighs.

"Oh most definitely." He agrees with a grin against her throat.

Rolling about on the rug, Loki turns to mush, cuddling on Sigyn like a cat hopped on nip. He basks in the heat of her body. His damp hair sticking to her glistening flesh. Downy feathers glued to nearly every inch of his cold, naked body as he snuggles in for warmth.

"You know I can rip out your soul and render your insides to the consistency of soup with but a single spoken word?" Sigyn returns with a grin of her own.

Loki growls amorously, playfully dragging his teeth across her neck.

"Are you _trying_ to turn me on again?"

Sigyn moans softly, smiling blissfully as he kisses at her clavicle. Now whispering more softly, "Sunshine," into her soft and glowing skin. She happily cups his face in her hands, leading him to her lips where she returns, "I love you," as she kisses on him sweetly.

Still riding the high, her brain is all fuzzy. Skin tingly all over in pins and needles as her blood slowly warms to its usual temperature after the big cool down.

"You're getting all scruffy." Sigyn giggles to Loki, scratching at the patches of facial hair coming in.

"Well, our lively excursion has hardly afforded me the time for a shave." He replies, rubbing at the stubble on his chin. "Why? You don't like? I think I would look rather fetching with a beard."

"Tis itchy." Sigyn scrunches her nose.

"Oh, is that right?" Loki grins most mischievously, an idea coming on.

Growling like the great, antlered Bilgesnipe, Loki lunges at Sigyn, rubbing his prickly chin all over her face and neck. Sigyn squeals and hollers in delight, laughing at his prank, until finally she succeeds in pushing him off her.

With one arm behind his head and the other around his woman, Loki rolls onto his back, staring up at the sparkling stalactites above. Sigyn rests beside him with her head to his cool skin, listening to the thrumming in his chest as his heart settles to a much calmer roll. There, the pair of lovers lay, snug and cozy beneath the canopy of her wings. The soft, feathery appendages cover and protect them from the harsh elements beyond the cave's entrance.

"Did I hurt you?" Loki asks softly from out of nowhere, focusing on the ceiling and how it glitters like diamonds. Like stars in a clear, midnight sky.

"From your scruffy face?" Sigyn giggles.

"Nay. From..." He trails.

"Your lovemaking?" She answers for him with a knowing little smile. "I'm fine."

She knows he knows it hurts her. That her body's not acclimated to the frost as he is. That even though she says she's fine, he still beats himself up over it each and every time.

"But your wings... Was I too rough? Are you cold?" He asks worrisome. "What of the Trolls? Are you injured? Were you hurt? I shouldn't have-"

"I said I'm _fine!_ " Sigyn laughs at his urge to coddle her. Which blame it on those cuddly love hormones, but he always seems to get right after. Even though it hinges on _over_ -protective at times, tis cute how attentive he is to her needs. That for all his arrogance and narcissistic ways, Loki really is a rather thoughtful lover. At least, that's how it is when he's with her. Loki treats Sigyn like nothing else matters. Because truth be told, when he's with her, verily nothing else does. Not even close. "Would you please stop worrying over me?"

"Nope."

Straining his arm, Loki reaches for his jacket on the floor by his saddlebag, dragging it over Sigyn's naked body like a blanket whether she wants it or not. He then grabs his bag and dumps out the contents, rooting around in all the odds and ends spilled out across the floor until he finds his pewter flask. He offers her a sip before taking a long swig for himself.

"So... Wings, huh?" Loki strikes the conversation, his fingers gently stroking along the length of one particularly long flight feather.

"Aye..." Sigyn hums to his chest.

He begins tapping a finger against the metal of his flask as if he's got something to say, but doesn't really know how to say it.

"You have questions?" She finally asks, breaking the ice.

"So many." He replies, unsure where to start. "Why did you never tell me? When we were children, I mean. Did you know?"

"That I'm Valkyrie? Aye." Sigyn replies before quickly correcting herself. " _Welllllll_... To be fair, I knew my _mother_ was."

Reaching for the flask, Sigyn takes a hearty sip before she begins.

"I always knew that I was different. My father was never the sort of man for secrets. All my life he told me stories of my mother and was completely open with the fact that one day I might have to leave him to go join her. It was something I was fully prepared for, but then when it happened... It didn't make it any less difficult. I was a teenaged girl. I didn't want to go. I didn't want to leave my friends. I didn't want to leave _you_. I'd found love. You'd kissed me and for the first time in my life I'd felt like... like I'd _belonged_. I didn't want to leave that behind me. I wanted to stay. With you. But my feelings meant nothing to them. My mother sent for me all the same."

Now with more pieces of the puzzle, Loki can see the bigger picture much more clearly than he did before. The reason why Sigyn had gone away. Where she's been all this time. It wasn't her choice. She's merely a victim of her heritage. Damned by the grand design well since birth. Just like him.

"You see not every child born to a Valkyrie will become a Valkyrie, herself." Sigyn explains. "In her lifetime, my mother had _many_ daughters, and all with many different fathers to assure the likelihood that at least _one_ of them would carry on the bloodline. And I'm sure considering the poor stock of my father, none of the council ever did share in her belief that that daughter would be _me_. Certainly _I_ never believed. So you can imagine my surprise when my wings started coming in."

"I guess that explains why your mother wanted lots and lots of grandchildren." Loki remarks on her story, recalling an earlier discussion both she and he under the guise of Theoric had had of her many suitors.

"To carry on the bloodline." Sigyn agrees. "The next generation of Valkyrie."

"So all those men vying for your hand?"

" _Ayyyye_... I may not have been completely honest about that one." She confesses sheepishly. "It was not my _hand_ that they were after... exactly."

The thought of so many men trying for Sigyn. _His_ Sigyn. Pawing at her and touching on her... Even if he knows she'd never. She _wouldn't_. Sigyn had said that she'd sent them all packing and he _believes_ her. Loki trusts in her solemn word. But that still doesn't offer much comfort to what his imagination can conjure. The Trickster knows the wicked ways of men. He's seen it in his pigheaded brother. Hel, he's seen it in himself at times. To think Sigyn could have been subjected to such depravity.

Loki can literally feel the bile rising to his throat. Disgusted, he props himself up on his elbows to help ease the burning sensation in his gut. Sigyn sits herself upright as well, clutching Loki's jacket to her chest.

"So you're telling me your mother sent caller after caller to your door, expecting you to... what? _Breed_ with them?"

"She expected me to carry out my _duty_. Just as she did before me, and her mother before her. For the continued survival of our species. Which, might I remind, I didn't!" Sigyn replies. "Look... I'm not defending her actions by any means, but... Things are _different_ in Valhalla, Loki. Down here, your emotions drive every decision that you make. Sometimes it may work out for you, while others... Well, lets face it, most of the time it _doesn't_ work. Take Midgard, for example. Or Jotunheim. Or-"

"Hey!" Loki feigns offended, cutting her off before he truly does take offense. "Ouch!"

"All I'm saying is that for a Valkyrie, there's no such thing as failure. You live and die by the rules and that's all there is to it. There is no greater honor." Sigyn continues. "Mating is simply mating. Love has nothing to do with it, nor would it ever. A true Valkyrie feels _nothing_. And men are simply a means to an end. They provide us with children and raise our young until those selected have been deemed ready for training."

Loki's head reels from the newly gained knowledge. How anyone could possibly put a child through such an ordeal? How a mother could impose such responsibilities upon one's own daughter? Tis the same brand of character who would think to leave an innocent, newly born child out in the cold to die, defenseless and alone. Left to suffer.

"Tis heartless."

"It isn't heartless. Tis just... _practical_." She corrects him. "The system, it works. Just not for _me_."

She takes another swig of the sweet, burning elixir before returning to him his flask.

"My father loved my mother up until the day he died, but she never loved him back. She never could. It wasn't that she was heartless, she just wasn't wired the same way." Sigyn says softly. "My father would tell me of the day I was born. That she loved me very much. But sometimes... Growing up with Freya, it was beyond trying. She pushed me harder than any other. Trained me harder. To the point where sometimes I wondered if she ever truly loved me at all."

"She loved you." Loki attests honestly, remembering Freya's final moments. How she begged of him not to hurt her daughter. "Her last words were of you. She loved you more than you could ever know."

And more than he could ever tell her without exposing the whole truth. A truth that he would very much like to keep discreetly hidden.

"Aye, I know. Tis just. I tried so hard to be the perfect daughter, the perfect Valkyrie. But as hard as I tried, I never did quite fit in. I felt too much when I was supposed to feel nothing. For so long I thought there was something wrong with me. That maybe if I just tried harder, pretended to be one of them, that mayhap one day... one day I'd be _half_ the woman my mother was."

"But you're not. You're _twice_ the woman she ever was." Loki assures her, taking a swig. "Which is lucky for me, I suppose, that you're nothing much like her. Pretty sure that woman didn't like me very much, did she?"

Not to mention tried to kill him. And nearly succeeded.

"Nay. Not in the slightest! Which I'm sure only made it all the worse knowing that her daughter held you in such high regards!" Sigyn laughs. "Why else do you think she paraded before me so many suitors? She was hoping at least _one_ of them would catch my eye. Get my thoughts far from you. Instead, all the many of them caught was my foot up their arse."

There's a certain level of pride that comes with knowing that out of all those countless men, she chose _him_. That Sigyn may have had a very different life if not for his influence on her. Likely some heartless she-beast with a brood of baby birdies under her wings. Loki would like to think he'd touched her life for the better. Which is a major accomplishment for the Mischief God since usually it's for the worse. Things tend not to work out so well for those whose lives he's touched.

"Did she know?" Loki asks.

"Of your parentage?" Sigyn assumes. "I can't say for certain, but I do believe that she did. She must have."

Of course she knew. Only now does it make so much more sense. Despite the years, even now Loki can recall the calloused glare that woman had given him upon the first time they'd met. Like he was a _thing_. A monster, not a child. Undeserving of her daughter's affection. And certainly not of Sigyn's bridal bed.

"I'm just offended I was never invited to the orgy." Loki says with a straight face.

Caught off guard, Sigyn can't help but laugh, nearly choking on her liquor.

"It wasn't an orgy!" She sucks in a giggle.

"Oh, right. _Breeding_ party. My mistake." Loki jokes, taking a sip for himself. Feigning hurt, he adds, "Still, would have been nice to have been included. I am so awfully fun at parties. Especially the _clothing optional_ variety."

"Oh, I'm sure!" She grins, snatching back the flask. "But as enjoyable as you might be, and mind you, you _are_ , fun has very little to do with breeding. And you're hardly..."

"Of a reputable pedigree?" Loki offers with a hint of sarcasm. "What? Those stuck up Wings can't handle a bit of _blue_ thrown in the mix?"

"It was hard enough for them to accept a part Dwarf among their flock without ruffling some feathers. A Jotun would just about cause an all out war!"

"Well, if there's one thing I'm good at..." He grins most mischievously, teetering on diabolical. "I say we put a baby in you just to watch the heavens burn."

Sigyn's laughter becomes hushed whilst he sucks at the salt of her neck. Taken aback, she raises an eyebrow at the Trickster.

"Is that your not-so-subtle way of expressing your desire for an heir?" She asks of him completely deadpan.

Which makes Loki's eyes grow wide to the size of saucers. Big and round and filled with fright.

"What? NAY!" Stumbling over his words, he quickly shoots back. "I didn't say that! Did I say that?"

Turning onto her belly, Sigyn rests her chin upon his chest, staring up into those big green eyes of his. The Lady wears a smirk upon her lips, amused by his terrified state. Usually so calm and collected, Loki's now so totally flustered. Come undone by even the smallest idea of rearing a child.

"You twist my words, woman. I was JOKING!" Loki continues on. "That wasn't at all what I'd meant!"

Deciding to have a little fun herself, Sigyn bats her eyes at him adorably.

"Don't even THINK of it!" He warns.

So she begins kissing at his chest.

"Nay! Stop it! Whatever your thinking, just stop!"

And his neck.

"Nay means NAY!"

Tense beyond imagination, Loki deflects Sigyn's advances, pushing her off him and then quickly scooting himself back, putting a bit of distance between he and her. Sigyn can hold it in no longer, bursting out in a fit of laughter at his uncharacteristic state of distress. Messing with the Mischief Maker is more than fun!

"How do you know I'm not already with child?" Sigyn snickers, offering Loki a waggish look.

"Because you're not!" He argues.

"Well, how do you _know_ that?"

"Because I just do." Loki defends. "There are _spells_ in place."

"And you're sure they're compatible with my unique physiology?" She sweet talks him. "I am a thing of legend, you know. Hardly the breed of Asgardian you're accustomed to."

His cold body stiffens. Petrified. Loki looks so completely uncomfortable. Like he's going to throw up.

"You're not." He repeats as if to convince himself, trying to hide the desperation in his voice. "Please tell me you're not?"

Again, Sigyn bursts out laughing, though Loki doesn't at all seem to appreciate her sense of humor. Not even a little.

"That isn't funny, Sigyn!" The God whines. "Are you _trying_ to kill me? You really are, aren't you?"

"Oh come now. It wouldn't be so bad!" She giggles adoringly. "You'd make for _such_ a great father."

"You're insane." He mutters, not sure if she's being sarcastic or not. "You're absolutely insane."

Crawling over to a scowling Loki, Sigyn eases the Liar back down so that she can go back to cuddling him on the rug again. She then returns her head to his chest, trying to achieve the position they'd been in before, but try as she might she just can't find the same level of comfort they had shared just minutes earlier. He's still far too stiff. Though after a bit of gentle coaxing, and a few healthy swigs of his flask, the Liesmith finally begins to ease up a tad, settling himself back into her embrace. And just when he's finally relaxed enough, Sigyn really gives it to the Trickster God good.

"Papa..." She snorts out a giggle.

Loki catches her eye, and just can't help himself. He loses it, joining in on her infectious laughter. The Liesmith's not even sure what he's laughing about. Maybe his nerves. Or mayhap the absurd idea to think that he would ever qualify for even a _semi_ -decent father. Hel, he couldn't even cut it as All-father, so how could anyone expect him to have what it takes to care for and nurture another living, breathing, tiny, fragile being with wants and needs beyond his own? Especially when he can't even care for himself. Loki'd probably just end up screwing up his progeny's life even worse than his most current state. Which is pretty damn worse.

And yet it feels good to laugh like this again. It feels good to have his friend back. Being with Sigyn makes Loki feel young again. Lighter somehow. Better. Like he belongs to someone. Something greater than himself.

"But seriously?" Loki asks with a straight face once the laughter has calmed. "Your not..."

He trails, leaving the question open and expecting her to fill in the blank.

"I'm not." Sigyn smirks at Loki's relief. As short-lived as it may be. "I mean, I don't think I am. I could be. I don't know. Would that really be so awful?"

"AYE!" Loki laughs, though he's only half-joking. "I swear I'm not touching you again til I devise a stronger spell. The world's not ready for another Loki. I highly doubt it ever will be."

"And what if _I'm_ ready?"

Loki looks over to see the seriousness in her face. The hurt. She's no longer playing.

"Sigyn..." He sighs, the smile gone from his face.

She can hear it in his voice. His want to change the subject, but she won't let him.

"But why?" Sigyn begs. "Is it because of when you were a baby?"

He casts a skeptic eye, wondering how she could have known such a thing, and Sigyn shakes her head.

"Thor told me." She explains. "After he'd thought you'd perished, he came to me and told me everything."

"Of course he did." Loki groans. Of course _he_ was the one to tell her. Good old Thor. Always sticking his nose into things that don't concern him. "And yes, mostly. I'm sure it has a lot to do with being abandoned as a child, among other things."

Such as the little fact that he'd slaughtered his biological father and tried to commit mass genocide upon his own entire race. So why would Loki even want for a child when all he'd be doing is adding to the very population in which he'd tried to kill? All he's good for is destroying, _not_ creating. Loki doesn't even know the first thing about bringing life, only ending it. Guess he's just not wired the same way, as well.

"Then we'll work through your fears together!" Sigyn persuades.

There's such hope and optimism in her voice, it makes Loki uncomfortable.

"Why do you have such faith in me?" He asks her softly.

Sigyn smiles.

"Because I love you." She replies just as tender. "That's what you do when you love someone, is it not?"

Her sweetness makes him chuckle. Leave it to a Valkyrie to help him understand the value of love. Tis like a child trying to explain the meaning of life. It's just not that simple.

"I don't know. I'm just sort of making this up as I go." He smirks. "If I'm to be truly honest, and you _want_ me to be honest, besides Frigga you're the only other person in all the nine realms that I have ever truly loved. So this is all a first for me, understanding my role as part of something more than just myself. Being a loner comes naturally. But letting someone in? Talking about the future and children and... Sigyn, I have nothing in which to offer you. I've no palace, nor riches or throne. I've not even a title. I'm no King of Asgard. I'm not even a Prince. My only legacy is that of disgrace. My only inheritance to pass down unto our children is a lifetime of shame. That and a long list of those who would like nothing more than to see me and mine suffer. I've nothing to give you, Sigyn. Nothing but myself. And that is _terrifying_ for me. So when you ask of me these things..."

Sigyn becomes quiet, gently stroking at the few course hairs on his ivory chest. The scar now visible, no longer hidden by the illusion of Theoric, from where he'd been impaled by that monster on Svartlheim. Tis a jagged wound. Dangerously close to his heart, but not fatal enough to kill him. It would seem faking his own death was not without cost. But nothing worth it ever truly is.

" _I have no use for rings of gold. I care not for your poetry..._ " Sigyn sings softly to his chest. " _I only want your hand to hold. I only want you near me..._ "

Loki strains his neck to see her face, surprised that Sigyn would know the words to such an old tavern song as that one. The same that he had sung to her so drunkenly as Theoric.

"You're not the only one to have ever frequented a pub." The woman grins. "When I'd left Valhalla, I was so tired of dealing in death. I was bound to begin living again. So I drank and I reveled and did all the things I'd been told all my life not to. I felt. I married. I opened myself up to love again. And through it all I'd come to realize, I'm only ever truly alive when I'm with _you_."

"So I don't need a palace. I don't wish to be Queen. I want you not for your title. I only want _you_." Sigyn confesses. "And whatever dangers await, let them come. We shall face them. Together."

With Loki on his back, Sigyn climbs atop him, her knees to either side of his body as she looks down upon him with the utmost devotion.

"I have no shame in loving you." She reveals, tenderly stroking at his face with her hand. "Asgardian. Jotun. Prince, king, or pauper. I care not. As long as I have you, I'll never want for more. And one day, when you're ready, maybe then our love can grow. Until then, I suppose the heavens will just have to wait. We can watch them burn another day."

Looking up into her smiling eyes, Loki loosely grasps the base of her wrist to keep her hand at his cheek. He closes his eyes, rejoicing in the feel of her skin against his. Of her heart beating next to his as she leans in closely. Her hair falling soft against his forehead. Wings spread all around him.

She is his everything, his whole entire world. Her heart is his castle and Sigyn, his Queen. Loki would give her the stars should she will it, so why is this so difficult for him? The one thing she asks of him is the one thing that petrifies him the most. Because it would mean sharing himself completely with her. And there are parts of himself that even he'd like to very much ignore. Because the truth is, despite whatever she might say, he's just as much a beast as the Trolls in which they've faced. He's a monster. And he'll never accept otherwise.

A monster can only beget another monster.

And yet despite his reservations, Loki cannot deny her. Sigyn's love is so strong, it washes all his fears away. Or at least sweeps them under the rug until later.

Also, how the Hel does one resist a golden goddess when she's stark naked and straddling your manly bits? Valkyrie or not, the woman's so blindingly beautiful, he could die. To let one as lovely as she go unharmed would verily be a crime against nature. To deny her bed is an act unforgivable. More so than any and all the red in his more than dripping ledger.

Loki takes her wrist and pulls her closer, reeling Sigyn in to engulf her sweet lips.

"I thought you'd said you would not touch me again." Sigyn smirks, noticing his sleeping giant rousing awake. It rises up to greet her. So cool and snug between her legs.

"You're right." Loki agrees, his mouth against her neck. "I should stop."

But he doesn't stop. Nor does she stop him. Instead, Loki begins nibbling again at her earlobe. Whispering her pet name, "Sunshine", followed by a serenade of "I love you's" over and over again as he's yet to let go of her wrist.

"You've no idea what you do to me, wife." Loki declares himself as he slips inside her.

One more turn around the sun. Together they make love all through the night, consummating their vows to one another all over again as the darkness becomes dawn.


	52. Search Party

**SEARCH PARTY**

"Woah, there!"

Deep in the forest, Thor and his men (and Lady) seek out the lost remainder of their group. He'd given his brother a headstart, but that was hours ago with still no sign of the Trickster or his bride in sight. Only that of a horse quickly and frantically galloping their way.

The Odinson grabs at its reigns as it barrels right towards them, but the terrified thing thrashes, trying desperately to free itself and continue on its way. Sif hops down from her own mare, carefully approaching the frightened creature. Only she can calm the savage beast and restore some semblance of order to this chaos.

"That's the Lady Sigyn's horse." The Warrior Volstagg remarks, noticing the saddlebag still fixed about the horses back.

A sense of dread falls upon the group. Thick as the fearsome bogs of Nornheim, and just as woesome, with each member of our merry band surmising a most violent end for our dear heroine and her most spiteful spouse.

"We cannot lose hope." A brave Thor bellows to his troops.

And with a flick of the reigns, he continues forth on their path.

As the sun begins to set, their search party comes upon the crystal falls, glittering in the final few moments of sunlight as it rushes down the valley. The golden rays of the setting sun reflect off the gem-encrusted mountain, acting as a prism casting the most enchanting rainbows all about the lake.

Tis a lovely sight. Or at least it would be were it not for the corpses lain about its shore. And the horrid stench of death is worse than anything imaginable. It only gets stronger the closer they dare to travel.

"What is that awful smell?" The Dashing whines, covering his nose. "Volstagg?"

"Hey!" The Voluminous huffs from upwind. "Don't look at me!"

"Trolls." The Grim acknowledges from atop his horse way out in the front of the pack.

"Dead Trolls." Sif adds as she trots in a little closer.

"Aye. And lots of them." Thor agrees, scanning the sea of dead for any sign of his kin. Which thankfully, he sees none. Or no sign of their bodies, at the very least.

The first thing he notices, however, is the manner in which these creatures have met their demise. Most having been sliced clean through by the steel of what can only be a very strong blade. As have many of the slain been stabbed by a smaller, lighter weapon. A dagger, most likely. All with their eyes gouged out, too.

"What the Hel happened here?" Sif wonders out loud.

There's still the residue of magic drifting in the air. Thor can tell his brother's mischief anywhere, even in this mayhem. There are scorch marks all about the rocks from where he'd likely set off bombs as a diversion. As is the ground covered in a thick layer of frost. Some of the corpses having been completely frozen solid, still yet to have thoroughly melted. Whatever happened here was not only intense, but it was _personal_. So much so for Loki to have gone to such extremes. Tis rare for the Trickster to assume his Jotun gifts unless absolutely necessary. Thor has nary a doubt whatsoever that he would if Sigyn was in dire trouble. And judging by the situation, tis likely she was.

"What do you think could have done this?" Hogun begs the question, stopping short of one particular Troll now reduced to nothing more than a puddle of meat and craggily flesh. Its insides have been completely liquified, oozing from the sockets. Little black crows have gathered to feast upon the putrid remains of the carcass.

Thor doesn't answer, just stares at the single white feather stuck in place to the carnage.

"Scavengers!" Volstagg shoos away the pesky birds as they do try to steal away his food. Some hop up onto his saddlebags to sneak themselves inside for a little snack, but the Voluminous is not one to share with the crafty creatures. "Away with ye!"

Squinting into the last sliver of sun, Thor sets his gaze high, aimed towards the heavens. His compatriots continue on with their own discussions of the battle which must have ensued, placing bets and making predictions on the likely whereabouts of the Storm God's younger, more insidious brother, Loki. Sif would like to think he's six feet under. Or at least she hopes as such. Tis better than to think that this is all just an elaborate ruse to throw them off his track. As Fandral would like to remind tis likelier the Trickster had fled after their oh so fearless leader had allowed the puckish prisoner off his leash, earning Thor a little " _I told you so_ " from the rest of the group.

But Thor isn't listening. Eyes to the sky, he focuses his attention on the tiny, white bit of fluff floating down towards him. Another white feather, landing in the mud at his feet.

The God squints harder, his gaze moving up the mountain to where the falling feather must have originated and finds a small flickering light way up high. It pierces through the shadows like a beacon, calling him upward to the sky.

"We climb." Thor demands as he hops down off his horse.

"Wait, what?"

"Clearly, you jest! You cannot be serious!?"

His decision does not agree with the consensus, creating a stream of expletives and inward grumbling amongst the group. But still, they follow where Thor leads them, the frozen earth crunching beneath their boots as they climb down from their steeds.

And so they scale the craggily peak, home to the monstrous mountainous Rock Trolls, strapping their bags and provisions about their bodies as they begin their ascent. Tis a most perilous journey to the top, especially for the vast Voluminous. With a face akin to a bright, red tomato and just as round and ripely plump, Volstagg anchors the rear of their expedition.

"Man... was not... meant to climb." The rotund fellow groans as he mops the sweat from his brow.

"Nor was he meant to fall from such heights!" Fandral calls down to his friend with a grin. "Do try to keep up!"

Beyond the last rays of sun and well into darkness, they climb through the night. And through it all, Thor says not a word. Just continues on his mission. His path. Eyes fixed to the beacon growing brighter with every mile.

And just when they think they can venture no further, when their rescue party is at the very peak of exhaustion, they arrive at the top of the cliff. Not the top of the mountain, mind you. Not even close. But they've reached their destination.

Finally.

Up here the air is thin and cold. So terribly cold, with such low visibility. Thor can hardly see much more than five feet in front of his face. But at least they've got sure footing and a bit of space to stretch out, they needn't hug the wall any further. Or each other.

"Get off me!" Sif cries, giving the Dashing a shove.

His Warriors look ready to keel over. Though she wears a brave face, even the good Lady Sif looks like she requires a well deserved rest.

"Are we there yet?" Fandral quips. Leaning forward with his hands on his wobbly knees, the Dashing pants heavily, just about out of breath.

Just then, a booming sound erupts from close by. All eyes dart to the mouth of the cave just beyond their visibility. The source of the light they'd been seeking, now an eerie glowing orb of amber, shrouded by the cover of fog. It dances about in the shadows like one great eye to some horrible beast.

"Aye." Thor growls as he readies his hammer. "We're here."

Again, the sound roars and the troops take to their arms, ready for anything. Despite their tire, they'll go down fighting alongside their most trusted leader and friend if they must. They'd lay down their lives should he will it. Their loyalty knows not the bounds.

Sorta...

Another terrible sound and Thor inches closer, as do the rest.

"Stay back." He instructs his crew, holding out a hand to keep them away. "We know not what manner of creature we face. I'll go."

"Oh, thank the stars!" Volstagg cries as he drops to his knees.

The rest of their party follows suit, taking a seat and a much needed breather.

"I meant I'll go _first_." Thor's shoulders droop at the sight of his friends all abandoning him to his fate. "Should anything happen..."

" _Nahhh_... You've got this." The Grim offers a rare grin whilst removing his boots and massaging at his poor, aching feet.

"Aye! You go!" Volstagg agrees, already searching around in his sack for something to eat. "I'll save you a bite for when you return."

The group wishes Thor all the very best of luck as he turns back towards the cave.

"Gee... Thanks..." He grumbles beneath his breath.

The God grips Mjolnir tight, returning upon his journey.

"At least _you_ won't let me down, will you, girl?" He speaks to his hammer. His one and only true friend at the moment.

And with the great roaring becoming louder, Thor inches himself closer, unsure of what awaits him inside the cave's entrance.

In his head, tis a dragon. Some great horrid beast which has dragged his brother and his brother's heart far away, likely to be eaten or torn to shreds later. Or mayhap tis more Trolls. Seeing what Loki and Sigyn had done to their brethren, they've captured the pair and have set to torturing them both. In either case, the strange echo is a sound unlike anything the Odinson has ever before heard. A sound to make the hairs on his arms stand right on end.

Tis not that he's afraid of whatever foul creature resides within. The proud Prince has fought all breed of beast about all of the nine realms and has always returned victorious. Mostly. Tis more that he is fearful for the fate of his family. Though he may not be blood, as the troublesome Trickster likes to remind, Loki is Thor's brother whether he likes it or not. Even if as of late, tis usually _not_. Still, Thor will always be there for the mischief-maker. No matter what, he's got his brother's back.

He can only hope he's not too late.

More feathers litter the ground now, with some of the lighter downy plumage floating about the swirling mist. Thor follows the trail into the deep, black abyss.

A loud, rolling growl shakes the rocky walls as Thor braves himself inside the cave's entrance. The darkness hits him immediately, making it difficult to see, though he can sense the shape of a massive form in the center of the cave. With black, leathery skin, sharp horns, and long wings, the strange beast lies beside what Thor can now tell is a fire. The light that he'd been following all along.

The creature is unlike anything the Odinson has ever seen. Covered in fur and surrounded by feathers, whatever it is, it doesn't seem to have noticed him as of yet. Which is more than ideal. Thor has the element of surprise. Except for the fact that once his eyes have finally and fully adjusted, does he realize that the surprise in on _him_.

Through the darkness and the haze, Thor realizes tis not _one_ massive creature, but that of _two_ forms. The bodies of Loki and Lady Sigyn, lying together in embrace. And that horrible sound is nothing more than that of his brother snoring. _Loudly_.

Content beyond all measure, the Laufeyson is dead to the world, slumbering to his black hearts content with Sigyn right there beside him. The woman, who must have either been stricken deaf or is just as exhausted as he to sleep through such a roaring racket.

Having stepped foot inside the cave, their makeshift love nest fitted with feather and fur, Thor disturbs the lover's restful slumber. He's brought the cold air in with him, causing Sigyn to shiver and reach for more fur and Loki to turn onto his back. Snoring, the Jotun-born scratches at his belly as he rolls over.

Now, when Thor had made mention that he's got his brother's back, by no means had he ever meant for _this_. To have his back is one thing, but his backside and all the bits in between?

Thor immediately covers his eyes, fearing he'd been stricken blind by the sight of his brother stretched out across the floor. With his hair all a mess and his mouth held agape, Loki's completely disheveled. But that's not even the worst of it. Not even for one as vain and prideful about keeping appearances as Loki. Always so majestic, at the moment he's anything but.

Lying with his knees apart, Loki opens himself to the cool air which has invaded the cave. Legs completely spread eagle. His bumped uglies just hanging all out there for the Odinson to see. Which is verily something the God wishes he could very much _un_ -see, but the damage has already been done. The image burnt into the backs of his eyelids for all of eternity.

Thor throws up a little in his mouth, the vile contents all watery in the back of his throat, making the Thunder God shudder. He stumbles backwards, reaching for the cave wall to keep his balance as he's yet to open his eyes, leaving the snoring Jotun to his slumber.

"Well that was quick." Thor can hear Fandral remark.

"What did you find in there?" Volstagg wonders.

"Did you slay the beast?" Hogan asks.

Still covering his eyes, the God can only tell he's outside by the feel of the cool mountain air on his skin and the sounds of his friends voices. They all look to him for answers, but the horrors found inside the cave are much too terrifying to tell.

"Are you alright?"

A friendly hand touches his shoulder, and another his own hands covering his eyes. Worried, Sif peels back Thor's fingers to address the shaken Prince.

"Tell me what you saw."

The Lady's never seen her friend like this before. His skin's gone cold and sickly grey. So completely uncharacteristic of the mighty Thunderer. In her mind, Sif can only surmise one possible conclusion. That he's seen the unspeakable. That inside the cave lies the slain bodies of his (not really) brother and his brother's (kinda) wife. And while the Lady couldn't be happier to see Loki dead and bleeding at her feet (totally), seeing Thor this way makes her feel... (ughh...)

Grabbing her weapon, Sif readies to enter the cave. Tis up to her now to set things right. There's no other solution. It all rests upon her shoulders.

"Nay!" Thor cries, choking back the urge to vomit. He gags on his words. "You don't want to go in there!"

"Tis alright. I've got this." The Lady growls through grit teeth.

Disregarding Thor's protests, Sif proceeds towards the entrance. She's one foot in. The toes of her boot shrouded in shadow. Ready to face whatever horror awaits. When suddenly a figure emerges. Sigyn. Wingless and dressed as if nothing has happened.

The Lady lowers her weapon.

"By the Gods!" She cries, eagerly taking a very confused Sigyn into her arms. "You're alright! We thought the worst."

"I'm fine!" Sigyn's returns Sif's hug with a timid smile. "Really."

Fandral rises from his seat with a flare of the dramatic, cutting himself in between that of Sigyn and Sif.

"My Lady love!" He cries, throwing an arm around the dame. "I've come to rescue thee!"

"Seriously?" Sif grumbles as the Dashing edges her out with the bump of his hip.

"Through the night I'd climbed. My only thoughts were of you, my dearest." Fandral charms. With no sight of Loki, now's his chance. "To the Elder Gods I'd prayed for your safest return. That I might see your sweet and smiling face... _umm_... again?"

Loki emerges from the cave. Though shirtless, Thor thanks the Gods, the stars, the heavens, and even Odin's one eye, that at the very least his brother's put on his pants. That's certainly a side of the Mischief Maker that Thor would never again wish to see. Ever.

"What's all the commotion?" The Liesmith yawns as he ties his dirty hair back into a ponytail.

Frozen to the spot, Fandral's afraid to move his arm from around Sigyn's shoulders. Though Loki acts as if he doesn't even notice. He's all eyes for Sigyn. Wearing a drowsy smile as he makes his way over.

"Morning." He greets, giving his wife a kiss.

Now Fandral feels awkward. It feels as if he doesn't exist. The Dashing's absolutely mortified. His chance to remove his arm from around her has long since passed. Should he let go now, it'll only draw attention. But still, they keep on going at it. Kissing for what feels like forever. And as embarrassed as Fandral is, when he does finally gain the nerve to take a peek at them, he notices Loki staring. Kissing his wife with one eye open and fixed on the Dashing as if to prove to the poor guy that he doesn't see him as a threat, but should he overstep his boundaries... Well, it won't end well. The Trickster's got his eye on him.

"I'm... _umm_... I'm just going to... _uh_... Go over here, now." Fandral stutters as he removes his arm and himself from the situation.

Watching her newest friend and oldest foe kiss like that makes Sif want to vomit. Suddenly she realizes what Thor must have walked in on and why he's so positively green around the gills. All of a sudden, she doesn't feel so well, herself. And that look of pure contentment on Loki's face when he softly pulls back from their kiss... That joy...

Sif gags.

"Right, who's hungry!"

Either oblivious to the strange tensions or mayhap Vostagg's just concerned with greater things, namely his _stomach_ , the Voluminous is currently busy rustling up some breakfast for our hapless crew. With a makeshift skillet warming over the fire that Hogun's prepared, the resident chef is busy making miracles. Fork in hand, he scrambles up the clutch of eggs that he'd scavenged from a nest upon the climb, mixed with the last of dried meat from his bag and whatever bits of mossy roughage this higher elevation has yielded him. Whatever he's concocted, it smells absolutely divine. Except to those with queasy stomachs. Sif and Thor.

"I'm starved!" Sigyn beams with a brilliant smile.

The girl is sure to kiss the cook on the cheek as thanks for this most unexpected bounty, causing the jolly fellow to blush a shade as red as his beard.

"I could eat." Loki shrugs, hiding his enthusiasm for Volstagg's realm-famous cuisine.

As of late, there's very little in life to get him as excited as that man's cooking. Grabbing himself a plate, Loki follows Sigyn's lead.

"Aye, none for me, thanks." Sif complains, holding her stomach.

"Nor I." Thor seconds.

"Very well, then." Volstagg bellows as he dishes himself some grub. "More for me!"

"Don't you mean _us_?" Hogun corrects.

"Aye, that's what I said!" The Voluminous laughs.

And just like that, the band's back together again. With the annoying baby brother and his sunny spouse found safe and sound, Loki and Sigyn rejoin the group. As do they rejoin the hunt to find Odin (maybe) and to finally set things right (hopefully).


	53. Exposed

**EXPOSED**

Tis just a little farther to the nearest portal between realms. About a half days hike traveling by foot. Maybe less. Though Loki would like to prolong this little journey as best he can. Maybe indefinitely.

Catching up to Sigyn, he hooks a finger inside her bracelet. The bit of leather he had used to tie around the tasty little present he'd left for her, now secured around her wrist.

Like he didn't notice.

She'd kept it because it means something to her. _He_ means something to her. Even if it is only but a little scrap of rubbish with no true purpose but to be tossed away and forgotten. Though Loki supposes the same could be said of _him_.

Both he and the leather binding were nothing more than useless things, broken, before she fixed them up and gave them new meaning. With a home inside her heart, she made them whole again.

Sigyn turns her head, smiling at Loki as he weaves his fingers with hers. He offers her a smile in return and gives her arm a gentle tug, telling the Lady to slow her pace without actually saying the words. She follows his instructions to the letter and the pair fall behind to the back of the group.

"Everything alright?" Sigyn asks in a hushed tone.

"Everything's fine." Loki smiles honestly. "Just wanted some alone time with you, my Sunshine."

He's truly never been happier. In all the history of his life, Loki can't honestly think of another singular moment in which he's ever been so totally content. So _free_. The Laufeyson's even getting along with his adoptive brother, Thor. Which is certainly no small feat to be taken lightly. As is he getting on with all the rest of his mates. _Well_... Maybe not Sif. But that's to be expected.

In some strange way, Loki has even come to see the lot of them as a family of sorts. Screwed up, sure, but close-knit, nonetheless. And Loki can't even remember the last time when he'd actually felt a part of a family. To feel needed and wanted and loved. Which is all the more reason for him to not want this to end. To wake from this dream when all the rest of his life has been nothing but nightmares. One after the next.

Sigyn gives him a playful look, casting Loki a bit of side-eye. Nose all scrunched like she knows he's being dishonest, or at the very least not telling the whole truth. With a dramatic sigh, the Liesmith relents.

"Actually I was hoping to create a couple illusions? Maybe pop behind that rock over there for a quick poke?"

With a laugh, Sigyn shoves him.

"What? Come on. I'll be quick, I swear!" Loki whines puckishly. "In and out, no fuss!"

"Quiet! The pair of you!" Thor hollers back at them as if they were children. "We've approached Troll country. Tis best we keep quiet from here on out."

Loki can only hold his tongue for about a half second before returning his attention to the Lady at his side.

"Oh, I can be quiet." He whispers to Sigyn with a crafty grin. "Quick and quiet. What do you say?"

Scratching at the itchy stubble on his chin as if pondering something, he adds, "Though... You're about as quiet as a banshee, really..."

"Am not!" Sigyn gasps.

"Are too!" Loki counters impishly, his smiling eyes shining.

"QUIET!" Thor booms.

"She started it." Loki blames, causing Sigyn to huff as if offended.

Looking over his shoulder, Thor shakes his head at the two with a smile. Chuckling as he returns his focus to the front.

"But seriously, you _are_ loud. Like ear-piercing loud. Wake the _dead_ loud!" Loki returns to playfully provoking his love. "I don't know. Between you and me, I think you just might verily be one of those Valkyr-"

Sigyn covers his mouth before he can finish. She can feel him grinning like the devil beneath her fingers. His eyes sparkle with mischief.

" _Ahh_... So it's a _secret_." The Trickster sings as he peels her hand away. "How I do love a good secret!"

Sigyn returns to hiking, and Loki right along with her, entwining his fingers with hers once again.

"But _why_ is it such a secret, I wonder?" Loki asks, his tone playful.

"Because." Sigyn replies. Her answer short and sweet as she concentrates on the trail ahead.

"Because _WHY_?" Loki goads. He knows he's being annoying, which only makes this all the more fun. "From the stories I'd heard and all the books that I've read, all the lot of you do is guard the honorable dead. What's all so secretive about that?"

"I think you just answered your own question." Sigyn replies, eying the scenery.

The trees here are sparse in this higher elevation. With ashen white bark and scraggly needles, they look so exposed. Very different from the lush flora blanketing the landscape below.

"The honorable dead?" Loki wonders as if trying to solve a riddle. "I've yet to see your point. What's so special about the fallen?"

"Well... What makes them so _honorable_?"

"The way that they died, I suppose." Loki follows. "They were warriors."

Up at the front, Thor peeks back at them, but only for a moment. Enough to remind the pair to keep up and keep quiet. And she _should_ keep quiet. These are not the sorts of things to be so openly discussed outside the Sisterhood. Not even with her husband.

"They weren't just warriors." Sigyn counters, piquing Loki's interest. "They were the greatest warriors the realms have ever seen."

 _Especially_ not even with her husband.

"Name any noble soul. Anyone at all." She divulges. "Buri, Sigurd, Tyr, Balder, even the late King Bor. And when your father dies, we shall come for him, too. Tis the only reason why I believe you when you say that Odin lives. We've yet to escort him to the great golden halls of Valhalla."

So mesmerized by her story, Loki doesn't even catch her improper usage of the word 'father'. He doesn't even flinch.

"You have an army." He realizes, his eyes widened in disbelief.

"Not just any army. The greatest army there ever was and will be. The best and strongest of all the nine realms. Undying and unstoppable." Sigyn expresses. "And tis the Valkyrie's sole duty to keep such an army safe until the day that they might be called upon. And to keep them far from the clutches of people like _you_."

"ME?" Loki shouts in his own defense, gaining himself a glare from both Sif and Thor. So he repeats himself to Sigyn. This time a whisper. " _Me_?"

"Of course _you_!" Sigyn returns, her voice just as hushed as his. "The destruction you'd amassed with the crude force of the Chitauri, imagine what you could have accomplished with the might of Valhalla backing your selfish quest for power. A single Valkyrie, even, and the history of Midgard would have taken for a very different turn."

"You mean I would have won." Loki spins her words.

"If by winning you mean the enslavement of a planet, sure." She whispers loudly. "Now do you see why my mother made it her own personal mission to keep you as far away from Valhalla as physically possible? As far away from _me_?"

Loki rubs at the back of his neck. He truly doesn't wish to have this discussion with her again. Though the last time it had led to some very vigorous make-up sex. Which was more than amazing, mind you. Still, the argument pertaining to his actions on Midgard are far too taxing to have to deal with. Especially with his brother present.

"I would never _use_ you like that, Sigyn." Loki replies, almost surprised by his answer and how quick he had come to it. And it's not even a lie. Honest. "Nor would I abuse what we have for my own personal gain."

And yet the Trickster's head spins with the possibilities. What he could do with such power... He could only imagine.

However it pains him, there's a part of Loki that understands why Sigyn's mother had kept her daughter far from his not-so-good graces. And while it might be tempting, VERY tempting, he'd never wrong her like that. Not again. Not after the last time he'd betrayed her trust. Loki can't even bear to have her look at him like that again. Nor is he at all positive their relationship is yet strong enough to survive such another betrayal. Or would it be ever. Mayhap if Sigyn were someone else to him. _Anyone_ else. Loki would not even hesitate.

However...

Tis not like Valhalla keeps a headcount. Surely they wouldn't miss but _one_ measly soldier. Of course that's likely just the Tesseract talking. The last shred of insanity still rooting about inside his brain. That damned stone messed with his mind in ways he'll never fully understand. Nor does he believe that the effects will ever completely go away.

"Wouldn't you?" Sigyn asks, meeting his eye.

Loki stops walking. Dead in his tracks. As does Sigyn.

"You still don't trust me."

Can he blame her? Seriously? After everything he's done, could he even trust himself?

"Nay, that's the problem." Sigyn confesses, her body language weary. "Because I _do_ trust you, Loki."

Loki can see the honesty in her eyes and how it conflicts her so. She's at war with her own emotions and everything she'd thought for so long that she'd believed. He knows in his heart and in hers that she's telling the truth. Sigyn _does_ trust him. Even if it goes against her own better judgement. Hel, it goes against all rationality. The woman must be crazy to trust the Liar.

With her hand inside his, Sigyn gives him a little tug and the two begin walking again.

"From a young age, we are taught to keep our wings hidden." She tells him.

"So, that's why..."

He points to her back. Where her wings ought to be but are not. Sigyn nods her head.

"They're an extension of my soul." She explains as they walk along. "I can call upon them at will."

"Outside Valhalla, our wings are to be concealed at all times. We do not marry, nor do we involve ourselves in the the lives of those around us. Daily or otherwise. Under no circumstance should we do anything to expose ourselves or our kind in any way." Sigyn continues seriously. "To be a Valkyrie means a life of secrecy. You're devoted to your sisterhood and nothing else. _No one_ else. We'd sooner die than to dishonor that oath."

She tells Loki this to explain just how much she _does_ truly trust him. That she's broken just about every single rule there is just to be with him. Which is not a decision she'd made lightly. And if given the choice, she'd do it all over again, too. Just as before because she loves him. She's always loved him.

 _Well_... Maybe if she had to do it all over again, this time she would have planned for it without all the lies. And she could have definitely done without the Trolls. And all of Asgard chasing them. And maybe a hot shower? She would definitely kill for one of those... But that's it. Swear.

Hand in hand, Loki smiles at Sigyn dearly, swinging her arm to and fro along with his.

He's received her message loud and clear and couldn't be more proud. The level of trust she places upon him tis enough to move mountains. As has it most definitely moved him.

"I'm honored to be the sole protector of your secret, my love." Loki beams proudly. "I will not let you down."

But the face that Sigyn makes causes the Liesmith to become wary.

"I _am_ the sole protector, am I not?" He frets. "Who else knows of your secret?"

Her head sways upon her shoulders as if weighing the thought.

"Well, Odin, of course." Sigyn replies easily. "The King of Asgard knows the names of every Valkyrie and their kin. Tis his duty. Though we do not accept him as our ruler, the All-father and Valkyrie have maintained a close relationship for near a millennia."

"And that's it?" Loki asks eagerly. "Odin and that's all?"

" _Wellllll_..."

Nibbling at her lip, Sigyn looks away from Loki. Head turned to the side to take in the hardly picturesque views of rocks, rocks, and more rocks. Anything's better than that deflated look of disappointment on her poor husband's face.

"Please don't say Thor." Loki cringes.

"Fine then I'll just not say it."

" _Whhhyyyyyy_?" He whines, head thrown back as if defeated.

"Like I'd said. Tis the King of Asgard's duty-"

"BUT HE'S NO KING!" Loki shouts, pointing fingers like a spoiled child. "I WAS KING!"

His voice echoes across the mountain, causing whatever birds nesting in the nearby trees to scatter. Thor and his crew turn around in a hurry, weapons raised.

"Loki!" Thor bellows at his younger brother, angry that he'd caused such a racket.

But Loki hasn't the time for Thor's lectures, he's currently engaged in a heated discussion with his wife.

Holding up a single index finger, Loki informs the Odinson to wait his turn as he creates with his magic a silencing barrier around both he and Sigyn. That way, aside from one another, no one else can hear what they're saying. To Thor and the others, it appears as if their mouths are moving but no sound is coming out.

"Thor may not have actually held the title, but he was prepared to become King." Sigyn explains to Loki from within the barrier. "He'd been groomed by the current King in ways you had not."

"Has he seen your wings?" Loki asks frantically, his piercing eyes boring deep into hers.

He cares little for her logical explanations. Nor is there much Sigyn can do to soften this blow to his pride. Loki's jealousy over his elder brother Thor is as timeless as it is endless. This time, not only because Thor had learned of Sigyn's secret, but because he had gained that knowledge well before him. And as for the next time? Loki's bound to forever find something to be envious about.

"What does it matter?" Sigyn sighs, shaking her head at him.

"Has he. SEEN. Your wings?" Again Loki repeats himself, being sure to emphasize his point.

"He's been to Valhalla, Loki. Aye, he's seen my wings. Thor's seen PLENTY of wings. Gods, you act as if I've shown him my breasts." Sigyn sneers.

"Well?"

Loki doesn't even blink. There's this manic look of madness to his eyes which Sigyn finds most extremely unnerving. Tis a look she's never seen before, but can only surmise it to be that of the monster in which he speaks.

"Seriously? NAY!" Sigyn recoils from his accusation. "Green might be your color, Loki, but envy suits you not. Deep down, you have to know that I would _never_! I'm offended you would even _think_ such a thing!"

Coming around to his senses, Loki looks down at the ground, ashamed for his outburst.

"I know. I know you wouldn't." He says softly, rubbing at the stress between his eyes. "Sorry I snapped at you."

He's tired. They _all_ are. Tis been a long and trying couple of days with little rest and food and so very much wear and tear on both the mind, body, and soul. And it doesn't help that there are aspects of this mission that Loki has been keeping from the rest of the group. From Sigyn. Lies that are crushing him terribly.

With a sigh, Sigyn comes a little closer, cupping his face in her hands.

"Thor is my friend, but you are my _husband_ , Loki." She says dearly. "My loyalty lies with _you_."

"I know. I guess... I guess I just thought that I was _special_."

Loki knows it sounds stupid as soon as he says it, but it's true. He'd presumed he was the only one to know her secret. That somehow that made him better than Thor, now he only feels less. Per the usual.

"But you _are_ special, Lock." Sigyn coaxes Loki to look up from the ground to meet her eye. "You've no idea how special you really are."

Belly to belly, Sigyn takes one more step closer.

"And if it makes you feel better, you can be the sole protector of my _breasts_ , should you like." Sigyn purrs with a little smile. Grabbing at the lapels to his tunic, she directs his head to dip forward so that their faces can touch nose to nose. "Now... How about those illusions? _Hmm_? Maybe pop on over to that rock over there? Quick and quiet? What do you say?"

"I say they might not be able to hear us, but they can see us just fine." Loki smirks, back to his usual sly self. "And I do believe they're staring."

Sigyn makes it look so easy, bringing calm to the cold beast within. The monster. Thor's no idea how she does it, but is glad to have her around. Not only to make his brother honest, a rarity in itself, but to make his brother... _well_... his brother again. To make his broken soul whole in ways the Odinson never thought possible. He's never seen Loki so content and tis all thanks to her.

With the slightest nod of his head, Loki directs Sigyn's attention to the small group that has gathered near by, watching the pair as one would the theater. Hushed and completely immersed in the scene.

There's Sif who looks ready to vomit. Though she tries to look away, the Lady finds she cannot. Then there's Fandral. Lip quivering, the Dashing looks just about ready to cry. As does Volstagg, but for entirely different reasons. The big softy. He can be such a romantic sometimes. And then there's Thor. As in everything he does, he appears larger than life. Wearing a brilliant smile, the Odinson looks ready to burst.

But the Grim keeps his distance, separate from the group. While everyone else has become distracted by the show, his attention lies elsewhere. Up in the rocky cliffs where shadows have begun to amass.

Confused, Loki follows Hogun's line of sight up the mountain. His eyes widen.

He yells at the top of his lungs, but no one can hear him. No one beside Sigyn who quickly reaches for her blades.

Loki drops the magic barrier.

"I said, RUN, dammit!" He shouts at them. "RUUUN!"

This time they hear him, but it's already too late. The Trolls have taken to higher ground and have begun throwing boulders. Great, big mounds of rock and earth. Some as large as the biggest ship in Odin's fleet.

The sky turns black. The sun blocked out by the attack. A barrage of a thousand projectiles hurdling right for them.

* * *

 _ **Gah! Less than 100 days til Thor Ragnarok! I'm totally freaking out!**_


	54. Live To Fight Another Day

**LIVE TO FIGHT ANOTHER DAY**

"I am Thor. Son of Odin. God of Thunder. And I run not from a fight." The Mighty One bellows to his friends and all the swarm of Trolls stationed above. "I say we stay!"

Thor readies his hammer, summoning his might against the oncoming storm.

"And show them just who they're dealing with? Aye, because they look positively petrified, brother." The Mischievous One sasses with worry. "I don't think they very much _care_ who you are. We're soon to be nothing more than a nice, lovely stain in about near three seconds!"

As does Loki summon his own bag of tricks.

"INCOMING!" Sif shouts, prepared to face the end head on with honor, along with all of her friends. Or what's soon to be left of them.

Eyes to the sky, Loki instinctively steps in front of Sigyn. The woman may be strong, stronger than most, but there's little a couple of swords can do when faced with something the size of a small barn descending upon them and fast.

Hel, he's not even sure there's all that much a Trickster like himself might be able to do, either. Besides act as her own personal and very attractive Jotun shield, mayhap. Loki would gladly put himself in harms way for Sigyn.

That is if he absolutely has to, of course.

And this time?

 _Welll_...

The Liar is nothing if not a survivor.

The boulder hits them square on. Or it would have if they were actually _there_. Instead, the massive thing smashes to the ground, phasing right through the illusions in their stead.

Thor turns his head so fast, tis a wonder it doesn't snap right off his thick neck.

"LOKI!" He shouts.

Staring at the crater where his brother had been not two minutes prior, Thor's not even sure what he's supposed to be feeling in this moment. Whether he's to be relieved that both Loki and Sigyn are somewhere safe and unharmed or angry that his Trickster of a brother had left it up to them to fight his battles for him. Mayhap he shouldn't even be surprised, really. Tis the Mischief God's nature to flee. But one thing's for certain, as more boulders start to fall, they had better go and find them before the inevitable happens.

"DAMMIT! FALL BACK!"

And so they run.

Though they have no idea where they're going, Thor and his crew head in the direction Loki had been leading them, wondering to themselves if this was his plan all along. If the Liar had all the while been leading them into a trap. At least some would surely like to think so. Mostly Sif.

But Loki's currently busy dodging his own set of obstacles. With Sigyn flung over his shoulder like a sack, the Liesmith books it straight out of the line of fire. _Fast_. He holds on tight to her legs and runs with everything he's got.

"PUT ME DOWN!" The woman hollers, hitting at the small of his back with the butt of her sword.

But for all her struggling, it only makes the Trickster secure his grip on her tighter. No matter what happens, he will not let go.

"I can fly up there!" She yells at him. "I can take them!"

"You'll only get shot down." Loki returns in a hurry. "There's too many of them."

Her safety isn't up for discussion. Especially after the last time they'd gone up against these barbarous creatures. Both he and Sigyn were lucky to make it out alive when faced with a small battalion of Trolls, but now? To say they're outnumbered is an understatement. We're not talking dozens. Nay. _Hundreds_. The entirety of their army and all with the home field advantage. These beasts know the secrets of this land better than even the Trickster, himself. To stay and fight would be suicide. So Loki doesn't care one bit what Thor says, or how much Sigyn protests. Call him a coward, but he's taking his woman and getting the Hel out of there.

"We need to go back!" Sigyn continues to shout.

"Not on my life!" Loki shouts right back at her.

"But Thor and the others..."

"Will be just fine!"

A lie.

Sure he hopes Thor will be alright, but let's face it, the Odinson and the rest of his crew are already likely dead and getting dragged off to the camps to be skinned and prepared for supper. Volstagg alone will probably feed the hungry beasts and their brood for the better part of a week!

But Loki knows when to fight and when to flee. Which side benefits him most and when to abandon ship altogether. Tis the only reason the Liesmith has survived as long as he has.

So while Loki _does_ love his brother and cares deeply for Thor's safety, nothing could ever outweigh the care and concern he has for that of his own skin. And when it comes to Sigyn? Nothing even comes close. Loki would sooner throw Thor to the hounds of Mephisto's Hell than to let his heart suffer even the slightest of injury. He'd sooner die, himself.

"But I can FIGHT! You KNOW I can fight! LET ME FIGHT!" Sigyn urges, thrashing about.

The woman's stronger than she looks. Sigyn can easily make Loki do what she says and both he and she knows it. It doesn't take long for her to use that strength to her advantage against him. Not that she wishes to hurt him, of course (not _this_ time, at least), Sigyn just wants to make Loki drop her. Which is easily accomplished by a well-placed elbow to the spine.

With a sharp cry, Loki drops to his knees and Sigyn tumbles forward. Dirt and debris flying all about as boulders continue to fall in around them. The sky burns with the terrible things. Great rocks lit aflame and thrown from the heavens like meteors, exploding at their feet.

Grabbing at his back, Loki groans in pain as he struggles to right himself. All the while, Sigyn easily climbs to her feet, reaching for her swords as she sets her stance for battle.

A panic washes over Loki, watching as her wings begin to manifest. In his heart, he knows she'll fight until her last and dying breath. He knows she'll stop at nothing to win the day. To be a _hero_. But that's the problem with heroes, isn't it? Always so selfless. So _expendable_. Tis tragic, really. The way they're always dying for what they think is just and right.

That's why he'd rather play the villain. Save his neck and have a little fun along the way. Which was fine and good until _she_ came along and mucked everything up. Then things got... _Well_... Let's say _complicated_.

That's when the rules changed. Suddenly his own neck didn't seem so Godsdamned important anymore. And playing the villain took on a whole new look. A whole new twist.

Since when did Loki become the hero of his very own book?

"Dammit, Sigyn!" Loki shouts above the din of war. " _Sov godt!_ "

Surely using his spells against her counts as an act of betrayal, but who the Hel cares if it means saving her stubborn arse.

Sigyn's eyes roll to the back of her head. Her body sways unsteady on her feet like a blade of grass blowing in the gentle mountain breeze. She falls. Wings sparkle and fade to the ether as Sigyn gives herself to the realm of sleep.

Despite the sting in his spine, Loki's fast on his feet, quick to catch her descent.

"Gotcha."

Sigyn crumbles in his arms, her body limp, almost lifeless as he cradles her gently.

"Sorry, Sunshine." Loki lulls softly to her sleeping face. Gathering Sigyn up, he hoists her back onto his shoulder. "You can be cross with me all you like when you wake. Promise. But I can't have you running off and getting yourself killed. Not today, Love. Live to fight another day, and all that..."

This time she has no choice but to let Loki save her, even if she doesn't want to be saved. _Especially_ if she doesn't want to be saved. For her he'll be the hero. Always.

And she'll be mad at him, sure. You can trust even a liar on that. But Loki hardly has the time or care to stress about it now. Their relationship has been in a constant flux of lovers tiffs lately, anyway. In fact, he likes to refer to their current state as the "Three F's." They'll _fight_. They'll _fuck_. And then, she'll _forgive_ him. She'll get over it. At least until the next fight, and then the cycle starts anew.

"Well it's about time you showed up."

Loki senses someone at his back. Several someones to be exact.

"Sorry." Thor grunts. Coming to a stop behind his brother, he instructs his fellow team members to hold. "I wasn't privy to the plan."

Grinning like a madman, Loki turns to greet his brother, Thor.

"Plan?" He snickers, motioning with his free arm to the scene unfolding all around them. "Oh, nay. This is chaos!"

And it is.

Bombs explode in midair, boulders crash, and fire swelters the landscape. The Trolls refuse to let up, not even for a moment to catch one's breath. Tis war. Chaos at it's ultimate best.

"Well, then you must feel right at home." Thor remarks to his brother.

"Shall I give you the tour?" Loki plays, offering a curt, little bow.

"Please." Thor grins right back at his brother. "Lead the way!"

"Boys, mayhap if you're done playing?"

Sif reminds them of their current situation. That they're all just sitting ducks here. The longer they sit and wait, the more likely to be pummeled, or burned, or clobbered, or eaten, or any number of horrible things, really. With Trolls, tis more than not all of the above.

"Right..." Loki gathers his focus. "Follow me."

Holding onto Sigyn, Loki sets his magic to work, unleashing all his greatest tricks whilst Thor and his warriors follow like ducks in a row. The ground fills with fog, a thick smokescreen in which to hide within. As does he set loose his illusions. Twelve sets of Lokis and Sigyns and Thors and the rest, all running this way and that to throw the Trolls off their one and true tail.

A series of bright green explosions act as a diversion. Lightning flies. Electricity filling the air whenever a rogue boulder travels too close to the group. Thor and Loki work as one cohesive unit, together in their attempt to save their friends and reach the nearest portal unscathed.

They haven't even the chance to realize they're working together. Both Loki and Thor are currently far too preoccupied in staying alive to apprehend the fact that they actually make a really good team. Just like old times.

Rubble the size of small pebbles rains down upon them, clinking against their shields and armor as Thor unleashes a mighty strike against one such boulder which had had them dead to rights. It bursts and breaks apart midair before it ever gets the chance to collide with its mark.

"Straight ahead!" Ducking, Loki shouts over the explosion.

There's a narrow crack in the rocks up ahead. A tear in the universe. To the unsuspecting eye, it appears as any old crevice. But to the eyes of a Trickster, Loki sees eternity unwinding. Not to mention their only means of escape. Only problem being, the Trolls see it, too. They know the secrets of this land, their home, and will protect it with all their fury and their might. As will they stop at nothing to keep Loki and company from ever leaving this mountain alive. To them, they are trespassers here, and the penalty is death.

Loki can sense his illusions have been bested. Each and every one of them figured out and destroyed. Their spent magic all return to him, the caster of the spell.

He could create more illusions, sure. But that hardly seems worth it. The vile Trolls have got their scent now. With their ugly snouts, they can smells that fear in the air. That desperation some would mistake as hope as Team Thor runs under the cover of a thick green fog to safety. That faint light glowing in the fissure just ahead.

"Man was not... _huff huff_... meant to..." Volstagg wheezes.

"Shut it and RUN, Fat Man!" Fandral shouts at his friend. With the broadside of his sword, he deflects a stray pebble.

The Trolls have ceased throwing boulders now. Which is good. What's not so great, though, is the fact that they've begun descending the cliff walls. Like a swarm of angry fire ants, they rush down the rock face right for them.

"GO! GO! GO!" Loki yells.

Sif's the first to reach the portal, but lingers at the opening, apprehensive to step through despite Loki's shouting. She's no idea what awaits her on the other end. If what lies ahead could be just as bad, if not worse, than this. She doesn't trust the Liar. Not even a little. But Thor arrives and gives her this look. Now, him she _does_ trust. Even if sometimes that trust is tainted by his brother's oft deception.

"I'll be right behind you." Thor says to her slow and sure.

Despite the encroaching madness all around them, Thor takes the moment to calm her nerves. He places a strong hand upon Sif's shoulder, reassuring the Lady that everything will be okay. Even if he's not so sure, himself. Despite the outcome, he knows that she'll pull through. He believes in her. Now he just needs her to believe in herself.

Just one look and a few words from Thor, and that's all the Lady needs. With a nod, Sif steps through the portal.

Next goes Hogun. Then Volstagg squeezes himself through with a little help from Fandral. Or more like a whole lot of help. The Dashing has to give the jolly fellow's big arse a nice shove to fit him through the gateway.

"Go."

Loki's not quite sure what's possessed him, but he tells Thor to go before him and Sigyn. Mayhap tis some strange camaraderie or brotherly love he hasn't felt in quite some time. Or maybe the Liesmith feels bad for leaving him when this battle first began. It could very likely be a little of both, really. Such warm fuzzies for his brother are uncommon. Maybe the big lug is rubbing off on him yet.

But the Liesmith hardly has the time to dwell and neither does Thor. The God of Storms clasps at his younger brother's arm, giving Loki a firm and trusting handshake as if to say see you on the other side. Then without a second thought he jumps in with both feet.

About to do the same, Loki holds Sigyn tight, prepared to make the leap into the branches of the World Tree, when something catches his eye. Someone which doesn't belong. Or mayhap she fits right in with this lot of ugliness and their creed.

Loki turns to spy Lorelei standing pretty atop the rocks, guarded by a pair of the disgusting beasts. Her generals. Even from this distance, he can see her grinning at him with her venomous lips. Puckering, the Seductress blows the Liesmith a kiss.

Scowling, Loki hugs onto Sigyn's legs a little tighter. He doesn't even mean to. Tis a reflex. A sign of protection which does not go unnoticed by that Harpy's eagle eyes. Not that she didn't already know of the Liesmith's one and only weakness. Tis hardly a secret. But it is so deliciously delightful to see the little snake squirm. And suffer.

All in good time.

Charging his hand with green magic, Loki sets his phasers to kill. With a sneer on his lips and a growl in his throat, the Liesmith shoots forth a blast of energy from his fingertips, aimed right at that grinning whore's lovely little head.

The Trolls on the battlefield have reached his position. One giant mitt swipes for him and Sigyn.

Loki stumbles back to avoid the direct hit, and falls right into the portal. Just in time, but not before catching sight of his eldritch blast miss its intended target. Lorelei goes unscathed. Unfortunately. Though the Troll to her right isn't nearly as lucky. The poor mind-washed thing took the hit for his Queen and has paid the all too painful price. Tis nothing but cinder now. A waste of a good shot.

Too bad it wasn't Lorelei.

Too bad.

He would have really liked to have taken the smile from off her twisted mockery of a face.

Next time.

Alas that mad grin is the last thing Loki sees before bright, prismatic streaks of color fill his vision. He can feel the pull on his body, that rush as the interstellar wormhole swallows both he and Sigyn whole.


	55. TRUST

**TRUST**

With a stretch and a yawn, Sigyn wakes more refreshed than she's ever felt in all her entire life. Moaning blissfully, a groggy smile warms her face. She extends her arms well above her head and spreads her toes out wide, claiming every inch of the snug little bed in which she's found herself on.

A set of cool lips touch her cheek and her smile widens. She needn't even open her eyes to discern who that might be.

"Lock..." Sigyn groans, her tired voice still hoarse with sleep.

"Mmm..." Loki hums in reply. "I'm here, Sunshine."

His lips find hers and she so readily gives in to his kiss. Soft and sweet, but just a little bit naughty. His playful tongue swirls round and round her head, making Sigyn dizzy with delight.

The bed groans beneath her as she can feel him climbing aboard. Not his whole weight, just one knee on the mattress to gain a better angle as he greets her to this glorious morning.

Morning...

But wasn't it just the afternoon? What happened to the rest of the day?

One hand cups her face gently. The other mischievous as it snakes its way beneath the covers. Cool fingers slithering slyly up her thigh.

And weren't they outside? A mountain, she thinks. Though the details are still rather fuzzy. Not that he's at all helping.

His kiss turns to hunger. Nibbling and sucking at her plump bottom lip.

Sigyn swears they were running from something... What was it, again? Something big and nasty...

Gods...

It's at the tip of her tongue. But then, so is he. If only he'd stop kissing her for a second then mayhap she could think.

"You've no idea how lovely you are when you wake." Loki fills her head with his own brand of poetry. "To watch you arise from slumber is akin to witnessing the sun at the first signs of dawn. Tis blinding how beautiful you are. If only I could capture that light... Taste your glorious essence..."

The hand at her thigh slowly slides upward, sending shivers through her body as cold fingers dip inside her warmth. Drunk on love, Sigyn's head sways with all his pretty words. Burning with lust, her loins ache to feel his passion. Sensitive to his lover's needs, Loki sets those sneaky digits to work, kneading at her core. That pleasure-filled little bundle of nerves that makes Sigyn's knees start to quiver and shake.

"I want to eat you so terribly." Loki rasps, licking at her ear. "Might I?"

Eat...

Sigyn's eyes snap right open. That was just the trigger she'd needed to remember. Remember they were being chased by great, hungry Trolls, out for blood and bound to make them their supper. She was just about to face off against the lot of them, when suddenly...

"ARSEHOLE!"

She shoves Loki off her, hitting him hard across the face.

"OW?!" He cries, throwing a hand to his cheek. "Safe word, woman! SAFE WORD!"

With a sneer to her lip, Sigyn just glares at him dumfounded for a moment.

"Safe word?" She smacks at him again, this time his chest. And again. "I'm not being kinky, Loki.

"Then WHAT are you being?" He returns, arms raised to protect himself.

"Seriously?" She smacks at him one final time. "I'm UPSET!"

"Well, OBVIOUSLY! I can sense that NOW... But what do you have to be UPSET about?" Loki groans, rubbing at his tender cheek now that she's finally stopped hitting him. "What have I... _Ohhhhhh_... Right. That."

"Aye, THAT!" Sigyn glares at her tricky sneak of a husband. "You used your magic on me!"

"But only to stop you from doing something STUPID." Loki spins to his favor. "So really, I'm not the one at fault here."

"Oh, and _I_ am?"

His angry wife sits upright in bed, pulling the covers with her to conceal her naked body. Where her clothes and armor have run off to, she hasn't the foggiest. Or how long she's been out, for that matter. Where they are? What realm? Is Thor with them? Is he safe or even alive? Are _they_ safe? Are she and Loki still being pursued? Are they any closer to finding Odin...

When will this madness ever end?!

Crossing her arms at her chest, Sigyn leaves it up to Loki to diffuse the situation should he ever wish to get lucky quite possibly ever again.

"Well, nay. Of course not, my heart. No one's at fault, really." He sets his silver tongue to work, offering up a most cunning grin. "Tis the _circumstance_ to blame. So there's no need to point fingers. Certainly not at _me_."

How's she supposed to be mad at him and that face? Especially when Loki's wagging his eyebrows at her like that. Sigyn has to suck in her cheeks to keep from smiling, which the mischievous Trickster most certainly notices and further more plays upon.

Using the pointer and middle fingers on his right hand, he motions as if they were two legs walking across the bedspread towards her knee. From there, they walk further, right up the length of her leg to find themselves at her thigh again.

"Stop it!" She smacks his hand away. "I'm still angry with you!"

"So then let us have _angry_ , angry sex, yeah?" He growls.

"I'm serious, Loki!"

"Me too!" He grins devilishly. Wrapping her up in his arms, the Mischief God whispers into Sigyn's ear. "The safe word is ' _Tesseract_ '."

Which causes the Lady to groan and roll her eyes.

"What? Too many syllables? Fine, then. How about ' _Rage_ '?"

She pushes off him.

"Well then, what are thoughts on ' _King_ '?"

She glares at him.

"' _Kneel_ '?"

Still glaring at him.

" _Lies_ '?"

 _Stiiiiilllll_ glaring...

"Ummm... ' _Banana_ '?

Yup. You guessed it.

"Soooo... I'm picking up that's a _nay_ to the kinky angry sex?"

"Loki, stupid or not, you had no right to stop me in my pursuit for vengeance."

"Vengeance?" Loki asks, perplexed.

"My mother's killer." Sigyn explains. "Tis _my_ duty, not only as her daughter but as a fellow Valkyrie, to avenge Freya's death."

"But Sigyn, you know as well as I, twas not the Trolls of Nidavellir who had felled your mother."

But instead the man who sits before you, Loki thinks to himself. The same who's hoping to get laid.

"Does it matter?" She argues. "A Troll is a Troll. They're all the same. A scourge upon the worlds that I shall vow to erase."

Loki sits up a little taller, straightening his back bone as if to pretend her words do not affect him.

"Well, by your logic, then. If a Troll is a Troll, then a Jotun's a Jotun." Loki returns with the tilt of his head. "We're all monsters the same, they and I."

Caught with her foot in her mouth, Sigyn's lips hang slightly agape.

"That's not what I meant, Loki..." She tries to explain in a softer tone. "You are no monster. Those... _things_... Those things that killed my mother. That tried and nearly succeeded in killing us! _They_ are the monsters. And I could have been the one to end it. I _should_ have..."

But she's wrong. He _is_ the monster. The one and same in which she seeks.

"What you speak of is not vengeance, Sigyn. Tis _genocide_." Loki offers her in a gentle voice. "I should know the difference. As should _you._ I know you do."

How many times now has she berated him for his attack on Jotunheim? For his attempt to destroy his entire race? Though he rarely outwardly shows it, the truth behind Loki is that he feels _too much_ , leading him down a tumultuous path of destruction. As Sigyn had said, emotion drives every decision he makes. And it typically doesn't work out for him all too well. Certainly not for the better.

"What you and I have set out to do are _different_." Sigyn argues, though she's not even sure she believes in what she's saying.

Deep down she knows she's being a hypocrite even if she doesn't want to face up to it. Sigyn knows that her emotions have clouded her judgement. That all she really wants is to make the hurt all go away. But even if she gets her way. Should she exact her vengeance. Take away every single last Troll. It still won't bring her mother back. And the Valkyrie in her knows it.

Things were so much easier when the worlds were black and white. Good and evil. Then all these _feelings_ got in the way. _He_ got in her way.

"Nay. There is no difference." Loki returns. "Nor is this you, Sigyn."

He places his hand at her cheek, now. His lively green eyes staring right into hers. There's a darkness there that hadn't existed before. This hardened rage so kindred to his own, filled with bloodlust and violence.

Loki cares for it not.

"And that's exactly why I'd interfered. To stop you from doing something stupid. To keep you from making a decision you'd only regret from here unto eternity." Loki says sincerely. "As your husband I have that right. To protect you no matter the cost. Even from yourself."

Staring into her face, Loki can see he's getting through to her. His words are making an impact.

"Should it make you happy, I will gladly do the deed for you. I will dirty my hands so you'll never have to and wipe the worlds clean of their filth. I will hunt them down. All of them. One by one. But I won't let you become something you're not, Sigyn. I won't let you become a killer like me. Understand? You're far too good and pure for such darkness."

Her eyes begin to soften, regaining that sparkle and brightness which he so admires. Sigyn nibbles lightly at her lip, hiding the smirk that is forming.

"Since when did you become the voice of reason?" She teases.

"What? I've always been the more reasonable one!" He scoffs.

Loki eases himself down beside her, gathering Sigyn up gently in his arms to hold her from behind. He the bigger spoon to her littler one.

"Remember when we were young? That summer when you and Thor got the bright idea to ride the wild goats?" Loki asks her. "He was so sure that he could tame them."

Sigyn giggles softly.

"I can't believe you remember that." She smiles. "Gods... What were those billies names?"

"Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjostr."

"Aye!" Sigyn laughs. "They threw Thor right off that chariot. Nearly got trampled myself, if you hadn't -"

"Interfered?" Loki interjects with a grin, causing Sigyn to nudge him playfully in the ribs. "See? Voice of reason. When I say something's a bad idea, I tend to know what I'm talking about."

"Fine. Fine. I get your point. No need to rub it in!"

The two settle into a comfortable silence, she underneath the sheets and him on top just like how they used to on those nights when she would sneak into his bedroom back so very long ago.

"Did you ever think when we were children that we would end up like this?" Sigyn asks him.

"You mean at some dirty, little Inn on the outskirts of Alfheim after being chased by Trolls? On some crazy quest to restore Odin to the throne with all of Asgard out to kill us?" Loki asks.

Sigyn laughs.

"Nay! I mean _married!_ "

"Ah... Well, of course I'd always thought that."

Tis not a lie, but not exactly the truth, either. Sure he'd always hoped that they'd end up married, with a happily ever after and all that fairy tale rubbish they force feed to children, but really he'd always thought that she would end up married to Thor. Not only the better of the brothers Odinson, but the better of... _well_... everything. So having actually ended up with Sigyn is truly a dream come true. Too bad that dream was built upon a foundation of trickery and lies.

"If you could go back, knowing what you know now, everything I'd done, would you still choose to marry me?" Loki inquires. "Not Theoric, but _me_?"

"All the cards out on the table?" She asks. "No tricks?"

"No tricks. Just me as I am." He replies solemnly. "Would you?"

Sigyn turns in bed to face him, a great smile on her sweet face.

"What does the all-knowing voice of reason say?" She teases.

Loki smiles though his gut tells him tis an answer that he wouldn't very much like. That little voice that reminds him he's a monster and a murderer and she ought to do so much better than that. She deserves so much better than all he can offer. All the cards out on the table, with him as he is, there's no way she'd say yes.

But then Sigyn kisses him and that voice becomes quiet. She smiles and all his fears disappear.

"I wouldn't need the week to think it over." Sigyn answers him true, nuzzling her nose to his. "I'd say yes right on the spot."

And it's the truth.

He's not the only one who needs her love. She needs him just as much as he needs her. To remind her what it means to feel all those terrible, wonderful feelings. Not only love, but pain and happiness and sorrow and so very much more. To help her make sense of the chaos. To make her feel alive and whole. In the hopes that she'll become as perfect as he does see her. And in return she will help shoulder his burden. To be the other half to help make him feel as whole, as well. Complete. Like night and day, she cannot exist without him. Nor him, her.

Loki closes his eyes and rests his forehead to hers, content as Sigyn runs her fingers through his inky black hair, moving like comets racing cross a starless night sky.

"I love you, Sigyn." Loki whispers happily.

Sigyn smiles.

"I love you, too, Lock."

Rolling on top of him, Sigyn drags Loki under the covers, making the Trickster her prisoner wrapped up in the sheets beneath her. In glistening rays of golden sunlight, her hair spills down upon him as she leans in to whisper in his ear.

"The safeword is ' _trust_ ', by the way." His Goddess smiles against his skin.

Looking up at her from his state of bondage, Loki's eyes flash with excitement.

"Oh... I submit!" He grins eagerly, watching as she secures his ties round the bedpost.

Tis just as he'd said. The Three F's. They'd fought and now for the fun part!

Finding one of Loki's daggers, a little pig-sticker stuck inside the seem of his boot, Sigyn holds the blade up to his neck, the steel gently kissed against the skin of his throat.

"Now... Do you trust me?" She purrs.

Loki doesn't even blink.

"With my life." He faithfully replies.

"Good." Sigyn smiles, her fingers scratching at the itchy stubble on his chin. "Because I think I'll start by giving you a shave."

Yeah. She's totally forgiven him.

Until the next time he screws things up, that is.

And then the cycle begins anew.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Loki's been bound in chains in like, what, three movies, now? I dunno... Between you and me, I'm starting to think he might LIKE it! lol. Thoughts? Reviews, pretty please! xoxo**_


	56. All Good Things

**ALL GOOD THINGS**

"Sigyn awake?" Thor speaks into his stein of ale.

He needn't even turn around to sense his brother approaching. Loki has the same feel of a tornado just around the bend. That ungodly calm before all Hel breaks loose. A threat too ominous to ignore. And yet the God of Storms feels not at all threatened. Not this day. Not ever.

"Aye." Loki pulls out a barstool beside Thor and orders himself a drink. "She'll join us shortly. Just enjoying the luxuries of a hot bath and the like to their utmost and fullest."

The innkeeper-slash-bartender, an unusually rugged and broad-shouldered Elven fellow, serves up Loki's order, though the Prince of Lies seems less than pleased, eying the dirty goblet with that of disdain.

"If you can call what they offer here a luxury..." He grimaces, using his thumb to rub the tarnish clean.

Thor grins at him whilst taking another swig.

"What? Are these amenities not befitting of the King of Asgard?" He jests.

"This barn is hardly befitting cattle." His brother groans. "But it beats sleeping on the ground, _sooo_..."

"See? What did I tell you?" The Odinson raises his stein slightly, a toast to good health. "You're moving up in the world!"

"Always a bright side with you, isn't there?"

"Aye. And speaking of looking on the bright side... I see you and Sigyn are getting on nicely." Thor returns his stein to his lips. "I take it she hasn't killed you for removing her from the line of battle?"

The last they had shared a brotherly heart to heart, Loki was down in the dumps, stuck in the dog house, so to speak. He'd only ever seen his brother so low after the death of their mother. But now? Though he tries to hide it behind a mask of jaded indifference, Thor can see quite clear, Loki's positively beaming.

"I would have said 'for _rescuing_ her', but tom-AY-to, tom-AH-to." Loki shrugs, taking a sip of his rich, Elven wine. "And nay, we've come to a... _mutual_ agreement. I think she was more than pleased with the outcome."

And by mutual agreement, the Mischief God means to say they'd screwed so hard, one of the bedposts snapped in half. Something of which both he and Sigyn laughed about after for a good hour or so.

"Oh, I'm _sure_ she was verily pleased."

Thor smirks at Loki knowingly, which totally weirds his brother out to be looked at in such a way.

"Why are you doing that?" Loki asks, a trifle repulsed.

"Doing what?" Thor grins wider.

"You've got this... _odd_ look on your face. Are you unwell?"

"Oh, I've never been better." Thor beams. "And neither have you, by the look of things."

Loki begins to shrink back in his seat for fear the oversized oaf may very well lean over and hug him for some godsforsaken reason.

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"It means love suits you."

Love suits you...

The God of Mischief cringes at his brother's sentiment. Tis the same words that she-witch Amora had spoken.

As hard as he tries, Loki just can't strike the image of her sister, Lorelei, from out of his mind. That self-righteously smug look of victory as he and Sigyn stole away through the portal. Like he's merely a mouse in her treacherous maze and the only reason he'd escaped with their lives is because she'd allowed it.

What is their game, anyway? They've taken control of Asgard, so why go through all the trouble in tracking them down from one realm to the next? Thor and his crew pose no true threat. Even if they do restore Odin to full power, they've still got a snowballs chance in Hell of winning. So why even bother? Unless it was _personal_.

But Loki and Lorelei were hardly an item. Sure they'd dabbled in all sorts of _unseemly_ business, but she in no way held a torch for him. Not even a candle. And even if she had, then why would Amora get herself involved? The Enchantress had made it awful clear that she cares not for what her sister does. Or _who_. So what the Hel are those two playing at?

"That's it..." Thor slams down his empty stein, calling the barkeep's attention. "I'm buying you a drink!"

Loki groans and rolls his eyes.

"I already have a drink." He sighs, motioning to his barely touched wine. "Besides, I'm not sixteen anymore. I don't need you to procure alcoholic beverages for me. I'm quite alright on my own, thank you."

Not that Thor ever ordered anything for him that he remotely even liked, anyway. Always with the terribly bitter ales or spirits so strong, one would mistake them for starship fuel. Or mayhap it verily was. As a lad, it certainly burned well enough going down. And coming back up. Which Thor would always find quite entertaining.

" _Ach_... None of that girly wine." Thor balks at Loki's choice of beverage.

Tis little wonder they're not at all related. Loki's love of the grape almost rivals that of Thor's thirst for barley and hops. They couldn't be any more different if they tried. Not even of the same species. Both figuratively and literally, of course.

"A _man's_ drink!" The Odinson bellows, puffing out his ample pectoral muscles. "Something to put _hair_ on your chest!"

"I believe my chest is fine the way it is." The Laufeyson declines.

Which causes Thor's mighty chest to deflate in defeat.

"Come on, Loki." He implores, his voice touched with sadness. "My brother became a married man and I didn't even know it! I never got the chance to take you out for one final hurrah."

"Which is probably for the best considering the last hurrah you'd coerced me to endure, I was blackout drunk for near three days."

"And you loved every minute of it!"

"I truly don't remember." Loki groans, rubbing at his temple as if recalling the throbbing pain of the hangover which followed. "What I do remember is that of the loo for the next three days more."

With tender eyes, Thor looks at his brother with a heart full of nostalgia. Even if the wiry runt of a Giant is being a bit of a grump at the moment. But really, when is he never?

"I've mourned you _twice_ , now." Often loud and booming, the God of Storms settles into a calm rumble. "Let me celebrate your triumphant rebirth, brother. This happy new life in which you've forged. Let me celebrate _this_."

Thor motions with his hand between he and Loki.

"We're sitting at a tavern together." He points out the obvious, though the meaning is far greater. "Having a drink rather than at each other's throats."

Loki purses his thin lips, staring down into his drink. From out of the crimson elixir, his reflection stares back.

"You and I, we make a pretty great team, you know?" Thor continues to wear Loki down. "We're far greater fighting _together_ than against each other."

Matching his brother, Thor turns his gaze inward. Eyes set on the bottom of his empty stein.

"Let us celebrate before..."

An oaf he may be, but Thor is no fool. Loki knows exactly what his brother means. He just had no idea that Thor felt the same way.

This little excursion that they've found themselves on. This quest to restore Odin to the throne... Loki doesn't ever want it to end. And neither does his brother.

This trip down memory lane has been a joyous reprieve, but once it's all over...

All good things must come to an end.

Looking up from his cup, Loki meets his eyes with Thor and smiles. Not a grin or a smirk nor anything in between, but a real and true, genuine smile.

"So..." He gives in gently. "That drink, then."

"Aye!" Thor replies with great enthusiasm, smacking his hands excitedly against the bar.

Many a happy customer have come through these doors and sat at this bar, wooden and worn from the years of constant use and age. As is the land of Light Elves nothing if not happy and bright. To the east of Ljosalfgard, the capital city of this enchanted land, great candied forests grow natural and wild. Trees of sugar and gumdrops (no lie) sprout along spritely springs of bubbling champagne. Upon meadows of candy floss, children pick bouquets of lollipops (seriously) as they skip hand in hand. Tis a land of wonder and magic. Of whimsy and all things separate from their Dark Elven counterparts. Just like its people, Alfheim is a land of _light_. A paradise of happiness and pure indulgence.

In all its existence, never has this little Inn known a day's worth of worry or sorrow. So why start now?

Thor and Loki have much seriousness to discuss. Both of Odin and Asgard. The fate of their realm and of each other. When all of this is good and over, what will become of this fragile truce that they've created? What will become of Loki? Even Thor knows what happens to those who devise such treason against the crown. Forget being stripped of his powers and tossed unto Midgard. Loki will be lucky if Odin doesn't just throw him to the pits of Hel. And worse, what is to become of Sigyn? The bride of such a traitor would be bound to share in the same fate. She'll surely join him in his punishment. Valkyrie or not.

But none of that matters right now. Right now, Thor's right. They have very much to celebrate. Such as being alive, for starters. They'd escaped the wrath of a hoard of angry Trolls barely by the skin of their teeth. Not an accomplishment many can boast about.

They also have each other. This is the most Thor and Loki have spoken in years. Without trying to kill each other, at least. Sharing a pint and each other's company. Drinking away the burden of both the battle behind them and the one that lies yet ahead.

To this, they toast. Not as enemies or even allies, but as _brothers_. Thor and Loki hold their steins up high.

"To family." The Odinson salutes boldly. "May we always be more than our blood."

And the Laufeyson follows.

"To family." He agrees in a more subdued tone than that of his boisterous older brother. "Skål."

The two clink steins and throw their heads back, allowing the frothy amber brew to flow freely down the backs of their throats. For when one finds themselves in Alfheim, do as the Elves do. Drink and be merry! Within this beer hall, all are equal. There be no need for fighting here. Or competing.

 _Wellllll..._

Both at war and at play, mayhap a little healthy competition is always in order when the boys of Asgard are in town.

Eyes to Valhalla, Thor chugs like he has never chugged before, finishing his stein in record time. As does Loki, determined not to be outdone.

In unison, the pair lay down their mugs and shout,

"ANOTHER!"

* * *

 _ **"I never stopped trying, I never stopped feeling like family is much more than blood"**_

 _ **A/N: So I've got the Slipknot song 'Til We Die stuck in my head. I think it's so perfect for our band of brothers right now. Give it a listen!**_


	57. Better Company

**BETTER COMPANY**

Descending the creaky, old staircase, Sigyn seeks out her husband and the rest of their crew, making her way down to the tavern located below their sleeping quarters. With each step she gets closer, the raucous grows louder. The telltale sounds of glasses clinking and patrons calling, singing songs of yore and laughter. _So_ much laughter. To say the least, it instantly reminds her of home. Of her brothers. Of bad food and better company. And so very much of love. It fills Sigyn's heart with a great swell of happiness.

And then she spots her husband...

Belly up to the bar, Loki and Fandral sit side by side, arm in arm, hanging over one another as if they've been best friends forever (#BFF!). Just laughing and chatting it up over their pitchers of ale. That is until Sigyn enters the room and Loki's attention is drawn elsewhere. Eyes wide with excitement, he notices her immediately.

For a moment, Sigyn seriously considers turning around and heading right back upstairs to her room. But the sight of a drunk Loki is far too good to miss. She's never seen this side of him before, and tis likely he'll never let her see him like this again. Ever.

Frothy head flings about through the air as Loki raises his hand high, waiving it about to gain her attention. As if she couldn't find him otherwise. In a room full of drunken Elves and otherworldly creatures, a few wenches here and there, Loki sticks out like a sore thumb. He's the one with the gleaming golden helmet. On the bar. Upside down. Currently being used as a bowl of sorts to contain one Hel of a mixed drink concoction. Complete with brightly colored little umbrellas (of course).

Loki tries to get up from his seat to greet her, but gravity is hardly his friend at the moment. He loses his balance and falls back into his chair. Sigyn covers her mouth to stifle a giggle.

His strong, slightly aquiline nose looks more like a cherry tomato than anything. So red, she'd almost think he'd been out in the cold of night for far too long and the frost had been nipping at him. That is if the cold had any affect on him at all, really.

In fact, his whole face is flushed and his eyes completely glazed over. There's this goofy smile on his lips that she somehow gets the feeling could not be driven away no matter how hard one were to try.

Loki makes for the happiest drunk she ever did see. And that's coming from a woman who has had the pleasure of walking Valhalla's golden halls. The honorable dead sure know how to while away eternity from beneath the bottom of a bottle, that's for sure. But Loki takes it to a whole other level. As in everything he does in life, the God of Mischief pushes well past the boundaries.

"There sshe iss." Loki slurs, directing Fandral's attention to Sigyn as she approaches. "Tha's my wiffe. Issn't she beautiful?"

"You, my friend, are one very lucky man." Fandral agrees. Though he may not have the slur, he's certainly just as piss drunk as Loki. "She chose the better man. Maybe not the _best_... But the better. That's for sure."

It looks like their little contest has come to an end with Loki the victor. As if there were really any doubt. He was always the clear choice when it comes to Sigyn's heart.

The two raise their pitchers of beer and touch glasses, ale sloshing about and splashing all over the bar.

It takes everything within Sigyn to keep herself from laughing at this odd alliance. Calling upon her training as a Valkyrie to maintain a straight face as Loki grabs her by the waist and yanks her closer.

"I love youuuuu." He smiles at her dreamily.

Laughing, she can hold out no more.

"I love you, too, Loki." Sigyn smiles back at him, prying his grip on her loose for a bit of breathing room. "But, mayhap it's time I take you back to our room? I think you've had enough for one night."

Reaching down, Sigyn helps her husband from his seat, snaking her arm beneath his to assist in lifting him up. An uneasy task given how wobbly he is, but she manages. Once up on his feet, Loki leans on the Lady heavily for stability, though he refuses to set down his beer.

"You're ssso beautiful." Again he slurs to Sigyn, lost in a daze within her pale-blue eyes.

"And you are so drunk." She returns to Loki with a kind smile.

Sigyn takes Loki's arm and drapes it across her shoulders so he could use her like a crutch as the pair set to hobbling back towards the stairs. But they don't get two steps in before he forces her to stop. Beer in hand, Loki leans down towards Fandral as if he's got something very important to tell him.

"We're having a baby." The Liesmith blurts out, his ale spilling on the floor.

Sigyn nearly has a heart attack. Hel, she nearly drops Loki along with his beer. Eyes wide in disbelief, the poor woman freezes right to the spot.

"I'm going to be a fath-"

She slaps her hand to Loki's mouth, shutting the blabbing blabbermouth up instantly. Her head then quickly shoots to Fandral, hoping against all hope that the drunken Dashing hadn't heard him. But judging by the overjoyed look of elation on his face, he most certainly had.

"He lies..." Sigyn giggles anxiously, her hand still firm to Loki's grinning lips.

But the Dashing isn't buying it, or mayhap he just can't hear her over the buzz of his own excitement. Whereas a sober Loki may tell only lies, a lush Loki has zero filter. He mostly tells the truth. (Mostly)

"Well! That certainly changes things!" Fandral replies, wearing a great big smile on his face. He raises his pitcher of ale. "Tis no wonder you're so protective of the lass. She's carrying your child!"

While excited, internally the Dashing is a tad bit relieved. He'd certainly dodged a bullet on that one. As lovely as Sigyn is (which is very), and as much as he really did try to bed her (quite a lot), there's no way in any reality (or Hel) he'd be up to the task of raising a child, his or any other.

"Congratulations are in order!" Fandral rises from his barstool to flag down the bartender. "WE DRINK!"

"Oh n-n-n-n-no... Thank you, but nay." Sigyn holds fast onto Loki. He tries to escape her to return to the bar. "That's really not necessary. You see, I'm not-"

"DID I HEAR CONGRATULATIONS ARE IN ORDER!?"

With a voice like thunder, a loud rumble erupts from somewhere off in the distance. Sigyn follows the booming sound to find Thor at the other end of the bar currently engaged in a very one-sided arm-wrestling match. The poor Elf, no matter how stout or sturdy, never stood a chance. Thor defeats his opponent with ease and then springs from his chair, sending the heavy wooden thing flying back and creating quite the scene. Ever the son of Odin, he is anything but subtle.

"Tell me my ears doth deceive me!" Thor announces quite loudly. "Is it true? You're with child!?"

"Well, actually…"

But Thor doesn't give her the chance to finish her sentence. Crossing the length of the tavern in what seems like an impossible speed for the mighty hero, Thor bounds over to Sigyn and Loki and in one great swoop of his powerful arms, lifts the pair up off their feet.

"Lillesøs!"

Thor hugs onto them so tight, Sigyn nearly loses consciousness. She can't breathe. All the while, Loki's just giggling away merrily.

"And YOU! Why didn't you tell me, brother?" Dropping them back to the ground, Thor smacks his brother across the chest all buddy like. "This is GREAT news!"

Sigyn can feel the blood return to her face after the sudden rush of oxygen back into her lungs. Either that or the warm, prickly sensation in her cheeks and on her face is from the embarrassment of all the unwanted attention. Something of which Loki absolutely adores. The Mischief God _thrives_ in the limelight. He's loving the attention completely. Could he survive on it alone, he'd eat it with a spoon.

"Loki..."

Grabbing her husband's arm, Sigyn pulls Loki away from his little bro party with his friends.

"Can we talk?" She hisses at him, sinking her nails into his skin.

"Of course my... _owwwwwwww_... Oww!"

She drags him just outside earshot before finally letting go.

"HEY! What was that for?" Loki grumbles, rubbing at the sore spot on his arm.

"YOU!" Sigyn whisper shouts. "What are you doing telling everyone we're expecting!?"

"Well, I didn't tell _everyone_." He corrects, sobering up a tad. "Only Thor and Fandral. So when you say _everyone?_ As in _every_ single person?"

"You _know_ what I mean!"

"I don't see why you're so upset." Loki sighs. "I thought you _wanted_ to have children."

"I DO!" She says all flustered. "YOU'RE the one who said you didn't! But that's neither here nor there because the truth of the matter is I'm NOT! I'm not pregnant, Loki! So you can't go telling everyone something that isn't true like that!"

Loki says nothing in response to her rant, just stands there with his hands clasped behind his back, head slightly tilt whilst staring at her adoringly.

"You know you're awful cute when you're all hormonal and angry."

"I am NOT hormonal!" She defends, face red.

"Nayyyy... Of course not, love." He replies, heavy with sarcasm.

"I'm not PREGNANT!"

Again nothing. Loki just continues to stare at her, now with this increasingly aggravating smirk beginning to grow on his face.

"I'M NOT!" She'd be shouting at him if she weren't trying to whisper. "And besides, how do YOU know what I am or what I'm not?"

"Because of your breasts." He says simply.

Loki retrieves his hands from behind his back and reaches out, grabbing at her chest. Both hands just glued there, cupping her breasts in front of all the entire bar as if it were a completely natural thing to do.

"They feel all... _different_." He remarks as he gropes her atop the pretty periwinkle dress that she wears.

Eyes wide with surprise, Sigyn stares back at him. So shocked, she can't even move to smack the man silly. Had she her swords, she'd likely slash his hands off at the wrists out of pure instinct. Which is lucky for him that she doesn't.

As Loki had explained it to her, he'd sent both her weapons and armor off to be buffed and cleaned and mended after their latest run in with the Mountain Trolls. All the blood and guts and brain matter from their most recent battle had left her regalia rather unsettling to say the least. As can the same be said of his own uniform. That poor pile of rags was in sure need of an upgrade. So while he does look rather fetching in his shiny new leathers and handsome green cape (quite the improvement mind you), as Godly as he looks, that doesn't mean he has the authority to manhandle his wife as he does. Because swords or no swords, unarmed as she is, his delicate little flower is not without her thorns. And Loki has about ten seconds before she tears his head clean off.

"Honk. Honk." Grinning in amusement, Loki gives her honkers a good squeeze.

Okay. Make that two seconds.

Sigyn grabs him by the hand and twists his arm painfully backwards.

"AGH! TRUST!" Loki cries out their safe word. "TRUST! TRUST!"

Seeing that she's made her point, Sigyn sets the Trickster free of his punishment. She lets him go. But Loki's never been one for learning lessons. Or paying for the wrongs that he has wrought.

Rubbing at his sore arm and shoulder, Loki stands bent over, staring up at her with that same goofy grin still worn proud upon his face.

"I love youuuuu." He adds, now returned to his playfully drunken stupor. His best and most effective defense.

And it works.

Sigyn laughs. She can't resist.

Head back and hands in her golden hair, she sighs to the Old Gods above. What's a woman to do?

He's rude and obnoxious and deviant and wonderful and she loves him. Truths and lies and all. It makes no difference. For better or worse, she's stuck with him. And she wouldn't have it any other way.

"Come on, you." She replies in a tender, motherly tone. "Let's get some of Volstagg's herbal tea in you, then it's off to bed, yeah?"

Again, she wraps an arm around him, helping Loki back up to his feet. And again, they begin the trek back to their room, leaving Thor and Fandral and the rest of the bar toasting to the happy couple as they leave.

"And for the record, I'm not." Sigyn quietly tells Loki as she assists him up the stairs.

"Aye, dear." Is all that he replies, though his smile still has yet to wane.

Holding onto Sigyn as the pair ascend the staircase, Loki slips his arm around her waist. Cold fingers feeling against the smooth silk of the dress in which he'd bought for her. They stop at her belly and stay there.

"Whatever you say, Sunshine."


	58. Honest Work

**HONEST WORK**

"Please tell me it isn't true."

"I don't know what you mean..."

Sif and Sigyn work away the morning hours. They'd been up since the first light of dawn, collecting eggs from the hen house, milking the sweet dairy cows... What those of this quaint little village in the Enchanted Forests of Alfheim would consider to be women's work. A notion which is laughable considering both women are more capable than all the men of their entire crew combined. They're warriors. Such things should be well beneath them. As is playing dumb. A trait most unbecoming of the young Valkyrie.

"You've been spending too much time with Loki." Sif returns. "But not nearly enough. Your lies are hardly at his level."

The Lady takes Sigyn off to the side of the little red barn, away from any prying eyes or those nosy enough to eavesdrop on their private conversation. Not that anyone in this sleepy one-horse town would even care, or doesn't already know after Loki's drunken stunt last night.

"I heard it from Volstagg, who had heard it from Hogun, who'd heard it directly from Fandral... You're with child." Whispering, Sif adds discreetly, " _Loki's_ child."

Though not discreet enough. Sigyn can clearly pick out the judgement in her tone.

"You say it as if it were a terrible thing." She returns, not caring for Sif's accusations.

She pushes away to return to her tasks, their only means of repaying the Innkeeper for their rooms after they'd left Asgard in a hurry and with no real means of currency. Since being the born Prince of the Realm Eternal and his company of friends isn't a good enough reason to warrant a couple comped rooms, obviously.

"Sigyn..." Sif trails with concern.

And so they've been obliged to repay the town's kindness through manual labor. Though Sigyn doesn't at all mind the menial tasks. Tis humbling. She rather likes the honest work as it reminds her of home. That, and she's never been much for the pampering of palace life. Unlike her more high-maintenance, sometimes pain in the arse of a husband. Tis _his_ fault, after all, why her friend is acting extra clingy and all worrisome this morning.

"Sigyn, we can still fix this. Once we return Odin to the throne, we can still make this right." Sif urges, remaining optimistic as she follows in her friend's steps. "You'd cried to me that night, confiding in me of his deception. And he's _still_ deceiving you, Sigyn. Don't you see that? Loki's got you under his spell. If he's forced you in any way... If he's hurt you..."

"I'm fine." Sigyn stops, compelling her friend to calm her wild mind. "I'm not under his spell, Sif. Nor has he forced me to do anything I'd not wanted."

Except for that time he'd made her wear his helmet. That was a bit much. And heavy. Like literally too heavy to keep her head upright. She'd ended up falling right on top of him, smacked him in the face with one of those damned horns. Lucky he didn't get a black eye. Or a concussion. To say the least, it was an instant mood-killer.

"But... _How_?"

Sif draws a blank. As does Sigyn. She stares at her friend awkwardly for a moment before answering.

"Well... You see... When a man and woman love each other very much." Sigyn attempts to explain. "Then the man -"

"NAY! Nay! Nay!" Sif shakes her head, driving away the horrific image of the pair together in the act, just as Thor must have caught sight of the two in that cave. The thought of it comes with a wave of nausea again. "I know where babies come from, thank you. I mean HOW could you say that you're _fine_? How could you _lay_ with him? That MONSTER! If he hasn't forced you, then WHY? Why stay?"

Her narrow mind can't possibly imagine a suitable excuse. That anyone could actually love the unlovable. Loki. He who doesn't _deserve_ to be loved.

"Because he makes me happy." With a shrug, tis all that Sigyn replies.

Coming upon the edge of the barn, Sif and Sigyn look out towards the forest. There, both Thor and Loki are busy with their own work, chopping and stacking wood to stock the sheds for winter. Though the days are still quite long and hot in Alfheim, tis never too early to begin preparations. Or to take advantage of free labor.

"And I deserve to be happy." She smiles, admiring her husband from afar. Subconsciously, her hand moves to her stomach.

It wasn't so long ago that Sigyn believed she'd deserved to be married to a monster. That Loki was cruel and evil and she'd deserved everything she'd gotten for having been tricked by him so easily. And while she doesn't deserve to be lied to, she can at least now understand why he'd done it. She can see beneath all the lies. All the ego and the witty jokes and illusions. Beneath it all, that's her Loki. Her Lock. With all his vulnerabilities and faults and scars, she loves him for them. Each and every one.

"As do you." Sigyn then turns to Sif, noticing the way her friend looks at Thor the same as she does Loki. She pines for him. Even if he doesn't even notice.

Though rarely rustled, Sif's cheeks burn hot.

"You... You mean me and Thor? I... I do not like him like _that_." She stammers, trying to downplay Sigyn's own accusations. "I mean we're friends and all, sure. But..."

Both Ladies look out towards the goodly Prince in question, swooning at the sight of him in the warm summer air.

"Though, I suppose, he is rather pretty." Sif remarks with a hint of a smile.

Across the way, Thor stands with a mighty axe, swinging at the pile of logs lain before him. His tunic hangs nearby, leaving his chest bare and muscles bulging. Sweat glistens from his sun-kissed skin, bronzed to Godly perfection beneath the heat of the summer sun.

"This is embarrassing." Loki groans, leaning lazily on his own axe as he rests beside his brother. "I feel like a farm hand."

Thor says nothing, just concentrates on the task at hand. Like lightning, his axe splits the wood clean through with ease. Right down the middle. Causing a most satisfying chopping sound.

"Such grunt work is beneath me. As should it be beneath _you_ , as well." Loki continues on, rubbing at his forehead. This hangover is killing him. A painful reminder to never go reveling with Thor _ever_ again. "You're a disgrace to the highly esteemed title of Prince."

Thor continues to chop. And Loki continues to complain.

"Why did you even agree to this torture?" He keeps at it. "Why not just take what we need and get on with it? We could be halfway to Odin by now."

"Because these kind people took us into our homes, Loki. Tis the least we can do." Thor replies, though what he really wants to say to his whiny little brother is that not all of us are thieves like him. Prince or no Prince, they're not as entitled as he likes to think. "And besides, the women seem to be enjoying themselves."

Loki looks over to catch both Sif and Sigyn giggling and gawking, though he hasn't a clue what all the fuss is about.

"What are they up to..." Loki wonders aloud.

Beside him, Thor goes about his errand, pretending he doesn't even notice.

"Take off your shirt." Thor instructs, never taking his eyes off his mark.

"What?" Loki asks, wondering if he hadn't heard him correctly. Sneering, he's appalled at Thor's suggestion. "And why would I do that?"

Again, Thor motions towards Sigyn and Sif, although now they're not the only women to have come calling.

Loki can feel their eyes upon them from every which direction. The entirety of the village. Mothers and daughters, alike. As is Thor never in any short supply of fangirls, no matter the realm. Though Midgard has taken an extra special shine to the golden son of Odin and his trusty uru hammer. A fame which only nauseates the younger, more jaded brother to no end.

"The Ladies love a good show." Thor advises with a stunning smile.

"Nay, they love _you_." Loki corrects, eyes low, studying his axe as if it were more interesting than the current conversation at hand. And it is.

"Not all of them."

The Liesmith directs his attention towards Sigyn who, sure enough, is nothing but eyes for Loki. Not Thor, his more masculinely built older brother. With his gorgeous flowing hair and impeccable good looks. Not to mention, those ridiculous biceps of his. Tis a wonder why he even needs an axe at all. Surely Thor could just snap those logs in half as if they were nothing but wee twigs. But Sigyn cares nothing for that. She cares nothing for Thor as she does for Loki.

Tis funny. There was a time when Loki craved the acceptance of all. The _fear_ of all. When he absolutely needed to be acknowledged and upheld by every set of eyes that so dared to cast themselves upon him. Now he needs only one. The love of one woman holds more power over him than anything this realm and any more could possibly ever offer. More than fear itself.

Sigyn is his and no one else's. As is he hers and hers alone. To love and to cherish. Forever.

"Now come on, take it off!"

Tugging at the green fabric of his tunic, Thor breaks Loki from his daydreaming.

"What are you... Stop it!" Loki argues, slapping at Thor's hand.

"Stop being such a baby and just take it off already!"

"I'm not removing my tunic!"

"But I'm just trying to help you!"

"I don't _need_ your help and I don't _need_ to take my clothes off!"

"But she'll love it!" Thor explains, finding himself in a gaming mood. "You'll thank me!"

"But I'm all dirty and sweaty and..."

"EXACTLY!"

Just like a couple of brothers, Thor and Loki squabble over state of his tunic. On or off. Thor tries to lift it up and Loki tries to keep it down. All the while, Sigyn's making her way over.

"Stop it!"

"Nay!"

"Thor, I'm serious..."

"Ha!"

As always, Thor claims his victory over his equally bull-headed younger brother, pulling Loki's tunic right up and over his head.

"Give it! Give that back!"

The Trickster tries to grab for it quickly before Sigyn gets any closer, but Thor's just a mite bit quicker than the nimble Liesmith and hides the cloth behind his back. And so a rousing game of keep-away breaks out between the pair of brothers, complete with smacking and pushing and roughhousing and...

"Ah, Sigyn!" Thor bellows to the good Lady as she approaches.

"Hiiiiiiiii!" Loki follows, finally having tugged free his shirt from out of Thor's grasp, but it's already too late.

Pretending as if nothing's amiss, the clever Prince combs his hair back with his fingers and grins, tossing his tunic over his shoulder like he'd meant to go shirtless all along. Politely covering her mouth with her hand, Sigyn giggles at him, her King of Cool.

"Now."

One word is all she says as Sigyn reaches for his hand.

"Now?"

Loki looks at Sigyn with an arched brow and puzzling expression. He hasn't a clue what she could possibly mean. But then he notices that desire in her eyes. That look she gives him as she scans his bare chest over. Nibbling at her lip as she takes in the sight of his alabaster skin and the scars around his heart. Tis a look of hunger. Greedy, greedy hunger. A look he knows so well.

"Ahhhh... Now." He inhales sharply. Taking her hand, Loki allows Sigyn to lead him away. "As in _now_ , now. Right! Got it."

With the biggest smile, he looks back at his brother as they head back towards the Inn. For all Thor's fangirls, he can keep them. Loki's got his woman, and that's all he truly needs.

"You're welcome!" Thor calls with a chuckle. Then lifting up his axe, he returns to his work, getting in one final chop before calling it a day.

Sif makes her way over as he sets to clean up, stacking the remainder of the split wood in the shed and smacking the dirt from his tired hands on his knees. She brings him a canteen of cool water, which the Odinson happily accepts. Taking a good, long swig before dumping the rest over his head to cool off.

"What were _they_ so happy about?" Sif asks, eyeing the direction both Sigyn and Loki had run off to not moments prior.

"Ohhh... Nothing." Thor smiles, shaking out his hair. With a sigh, he hands Sif back her canteen. "You know, you really needn't be so worried."

"Don't I? This is Loki we speak of." She reminds seriously. "Why do I feel like I'm the only one who's worried? About Sigyn. About Asgard. About _you_..."

With a sly smile forming, Thor crosses his arms across his chest and straightens his spine tall and proud.

"You worry about me?" He asks, twisting her words. Mayhap he too has been spending too much time with Loki. Which might not be such a bad thing after all.

"I..." Realizing her fault, words die in Sif's throat.

Thor's not accustomed to seeing the Lady so flustered or speechless. In fact, that's not the only thing he notices. Tis as if he's seeing her through an all new lens. Like he can finally see what his father had been telling him all along. And she was always right there. This whole time right in front of him. Sif. His greatest friend. All this time and he'd never seen it until...

"Now?" Thor asks, trying his hand at Sigyn's art of persuasion.

But Sif just looks at him strangely.

"Now?" She asks unsure. "Now... _What_?"

Laughing to himself, Thor looks down at the ground sheepishly. He shakes his head.

"Nothing." He smiles, rubbing at his neck.

Laying down his axe, the Prince then offers the Lady an escort back towards the Inn.

"Are you hungry?" He asks, gently placing his hand at the small of Sif's back. More gently than perhaps he's done anything in all his entire Godly life.

"Are you buying?" She returns, aware of the placement of his hand but not at all shying away.

With a smile, Sif looks up at him and he smiles back at her.

"Sure. After you."

And with his hand, he shows the way.

* * *

 _ **A/N: GAAHHHH! I got my tickets! So ready to Ragnarok-and-roll! WOO! Bring on November!**_


	59. Woven Together

**WOVEN TOGETHER**

The air in Alfheim tastes different than Nidavellir. Or Asgard. Or anywhere, really.

Sweet as sugar with this freshness unlike anything else. The closest resemblance would be to a cool, crisp slice of honeydew melon. So clean upon the palette. Tis an absolute delight.

As is the night delightful.

There's a calm in the forest. Far from the bustle of the great Elven empire but still not untouched by it. Though the distance is great, the city lights beckon. In shimmering pinks and glittering yellows, they float upon the midnight sky like an aurora. Wispy veils of color dancing for an audience of two.

Nestled in a small clearing among the trees, Loki and Sigyn lay within the tall, fragrant grass. Side by side, they stare up into the night, happily watching the light display above. Though in all honesty, he could care less for the lights. The only thing to have captivated his attention is _her_.

Sigyn sets her head beside Loki, eyes filled with wonder as she watches clouds roll past the silver moon.

And Loki smiles.

"I'm sorry if I embarrassed you last night." He says, pretending to look up at the stars when really he's watching for her reaction.

"No you're not." Sigyn grins, well aware he's looking right at her. And he thinks he's so clever...

"No... I guess I'm not." He laughs, realizing he's been caught.

"What would possess you to even say such a thing, anyway?" She asks, turning on her side to face him. "I thought you'd made it rather clear how feel about children. So why the change of heart?"

"My heart hasn't changed. Nor have my feelings on the subject." He replies, now looking up to avert her gaze. "I just... I don't know. I guess... I guess it would be nice..."

To have a family.

A _real_ family.

One that he's a part of and not on the outside.

A family made of _love_. Not war or trophies or lies. One that he could be proud of. That she, his mother, would have been proud of.

Someplace he belongs.

"I don't know." He lies, placing an arm defensively behind his head. "I was really drunk last night."

Sigyn can tell when he's lying. Something she's grown rather good at recently with their time found stuck together. But still she doesn't push him for the truth. It'll come in his own time. Snuggling in closer, she just lies beside him, offering him the company that she can sense that he so very much needs.

"I want a house." She tells him from what seems out of nowhere. "Nothing fancy. Just enough for you and me and the kids."

"OH! So it's _kids_ now! As in plural?" He laughs at her attempt to trick him.

Nuzzling her head against his cheek, Sigyn nods and smiles wide.

" _Mhmm_. Two boys. No girls." She elaborates. "And I want our home to be someplace like this. In the country. Someplace quiet and peaceful with lots of land to hunt and to fish on. And -"

"Woah. Woah. Woah."

Propping himself up on his elbows, Loki sits himself upright to address his wild wife.

"We'll have a home within the _palace_." He corrects, not even touching on the part about children. Singular, multiple, or otherwise. "A whole wing to ourselves so that we'll never have to see Odin, _or Thor_ , unless we absolutely must. Though I suppose tis to be expected on the holidays and such... And servants! We'll have lots of servants so that you'll never have to work another day in all your life." He explains. "Not like today."

Though he's done well staying calm, he's still rather furious with the fact that they'd made his wife do such ridiculous chores. Odinson or Laufeyson, Loki is royalty, as is Sigyn by marriage, and should therefor be treated as such. His wife shouldn't have to degrade herself for _anyone_. Certainly not for this backwater village. No matter how pretty the sights may be. Or how sweet the air.

"But I really don't mind it." Sigyn smiles at him with a hint of a chuckle in her voice. "I actually rather enjoyed myself today."

Joining her husband in a more upright position, Sigyn strains her neck seductively to reach for him.

"Not to mention, the honest work does look good on you." She purrs, placing her lips upon his neck. "All hot and sweaty..."

A smirk begins to form as Loki recalls the events from earlier in the day. How they'd dirtied the bed sheets, rolling about in their own filthy sweat. All sticky and covered in grime. How salty her skin tasted. How absolutely naughty...

And then again as they'd set to get clean. Water splashing all about and flooding the washroom floor as they shared a single little tub not at all meant for two. He soaped her up and scrubbed her down. Every glorious inch of her impeccable body. Wings and all. All wet and slick and sudsy...

Then once more after the maid had been through and tidied the bed...

"You're crazy." He teases.

It's kind of cute how worked up he still gets over her safety and well-being. Even now that he knows _what_ she is. That she's some nearly indestructible powerhouse. A terrifying monstrosity with wings. Loki still treats her like his delicate little flower. As has he always. Like she's still that lost little girl in need of his protection. Which she absolutely adores. That despite all that's changed, he still loves her the same as the day they'd first met.

"Well obviously I must be crazy since I choose to stay with you!" She grins playfully.

Loki squirms as Sigyn nuzzles her nose into his neck, making him all ticklish.

"Crazy to align myself in your affairs." Sigyn giggles as he tries his damnedest not to laugh. "Crazier yet to risk my hide to keep you alive."

Sigyn pinches at his side and Loki grabs her wrist, playfully wrestling her down from tickling him any further. Rolling on top, he manages to pin an arm behind her back, stopping her once and for all.

"It takes crazy to love crazy, Sunshine." Loki grins down at her wickedly.

"Then lucky for me I'm as mad as they come." She returns his grin against his lips.

In the trees, faerie lights twinkle in bright pops of white and ethereal blues as Loki holds his lover close, kissing her most sweetly beneath the starry night sky.

Loki lies atop her like a cage, imprisoning Sigyn within his loving arms. Not his whole weight, of course. He doesn't mean to crush the woman. Not like he weighs as much as Volstagg, or anything even _remotely_ close. Not even soaking wet. Loki's mostly skin and bones, really. And leather. Lots of leather. But still he places most of his weight upon the muscles in his arms. As if suddenly very mindful of her stomach for some reason. He makes sure to leave a bubble of space safely between them.

His hair hangs down, falling in dark, inky ringlets around her face. Sigyn reaches out and runs her fingers through those greasy black noodles, picking out three little sections in which to set into a new braid.

Loki watches her so attentively as she concentrates on her task. Realizing he's staring, Sigyn blushes and giggles but keeps braiding at his hair.

One strand over the other over the next. Three little strands. One for the past. Another for the present. And the last for the future. All woven together with all her hopes and dreams and love, as well as a strand of her own gilded hair. That way, no matter the walk of life that they may find themselves, may it be past, present, or future, their paths will forever be entwined. Always.

Though often times a fashion trend, a braid worn on a man can be seen as a symbol of commitment. Young women would weave braids into their sweetheart's beards and hair as a token of their affection. A promise made between them.

Tis something that Loki would always scoff at, really. Seeing the dull ritual as nothing more than a means to mark one's territory and being glad for the fact that he was never seen as anyone's property. But then when Sigyn braided his hair for the very first time, back when he'd pretended to be Theoric, Loki can't even describe the level of pride that came with it. Suddenly belonging to someone wasn't such a senseless topic. And now? As she braids her love into his hair? _His_ hair? The feeling's indescribable. Tis beyond proud. Loki's honored by her gift to him.

"There..." Sigyn smiles as she ties off at the end.

Loki sits up, placing himself beside her. As does Sigyn follow suit, watching as he inspects her work.

"Do you like it?" She asks him.

"I love it." He smiles as he leans in to kiss her again. "I love _you_."

Although his heart is happy, there's an undertone of sadness. As his fingers trace along the outline of her arm, Loki accidentally grazes the neat line of stitches from where Sif had sewn shut Sigyn's wound. The one that she had sustained while fighting in the dungeons. And while the injury has healed quite nicely, tis still a reminder of the real life consequences of this war in which he's made. Sigyn may be a very skilled fighter, one of the best he's ever seen, but still, that holds far too little comfort.

The thought of losing her...

His hand travels further. Down her arm and along her side, stopping just above her waist. Cold fingers resting protectively atop her navel.

The stakes have never been higher.

Suddenly this isn't very fun anymore. All this chaos that he's far too fond of making is all too real.

"What's wrong?" Sigyn asks him, stirring Loki from his worries.

"Nothing, my heart."

Loki fakes a smile for her, but in reality his mind is already in motion thinking up a plan to keep Sigyn far from the line of fire.

Mayhap he could place her in a sleep spell until all of this blows over. Nothing harmful. Just a short hibernation of sorts. She'll think it was a dream. Or maybe he could relocate her to another realm. Devise a lie so great she'll think it was all _her_ idea, even. Or against her will works just as well. He could verily care less for her feelings on the matter as long as she... strike that... as long as _they_ are safe. Because when this is all over, mark his words, they _will_ be happy. Not only will she never have to endure the burden of work again, but she will never have to fight. Never again will Sigyn ever have to lift a finger or a sword. Loki will make sure of it. She'll live and be treated as the Queen that she deserves to be. And no one, not Odin or anyone else is going to say otherwise. Whatever bargains he has to make, nothing will stand in his way.

"Tis just... Well... I have a gift for you, as well."

Sigyn eagerly scoots in closer as Loki reaches into his breast pocket, curious as to what in the realm he could possibly be hiding. To her surprise, he produces a little golden band.

"For you." He says, presenting to her his gift. "I had your brothers craft it for me from a bit of the gold in my old armor."

Taking her hand, Loki slips the ring onto her finger.

"Tis a Midgard tradition, the exchanging of rings upon one's wedding day." He explains to her softly, almost guarded. As if she might not reciprocate the gift as he would hope. "A silly expression, I know. But... I thought maybe you would like it? I know tis not much. And if you don't I can always -"

"Oh, Loki! I love it!" She exclaims, throwing her arms around him in a hug.

Loki nearly falls back from the force of her excitement. With a laugh on his lips, he wraps his arms around her tight.

Though they haven't spoken about it since the night it happened, their wedding night, Loki still feels absolutely horrid about ruining her gift. The little slip of paper he had given to her so very long ago. The old promise he had made. Loki can only hope this makes up for that. That with this ring he can make for her a _new_ promise.

Sigyn examines the gold band closely. Eyes wide as she takes in the simple elegance of it. The design is flawless, though she'd expect nothing less of her crafty Dwarven brothers. There's such lovely knot-work etched into the metal, but not at all too showy. Which is funny it would come from Loki. He's nothing if not always showy in _everything_ he does.

"When I had this made, I wasn't all too sure what would become of us." Loki goes on to explain. "But I _hoped_. I hoped that our story would have a happy ending."

"And has it?" Sigyn asks with a smirk, looking up from admiring her ring.

"It will." He smiles back at her. "Promise."

Whatever she asks, he will do for her. Whatever she needs, he will give. For her, he does promise the world and so very much more. That is his solemn vow. That from this day forward, they start their lives anew together as husband and wife. No tricks. No lies. No Theoric. Just Loki and Sigyn. Until death do they part.

When they return to the palace triumphant, and they _will_ return triumphant, Loki can finally provide Sigyn with the wedding day that she so very much deserves. The kind that she would actually _like_ to remember. Not one filled with tears and betrayals, but the kind she can be proud of. And maybe, in time, she can be proud of him, as well. A tall promise, he knows. And not an easy one to make. But it's a promise that Loki can only hope not to break.

A proper wedding with a proper honeymoon (not like _this_ sleazy excursion), with a proper home and a proper life. Is that too much to ask for?

Or is it all just too good to ever be true?

Settling back down, Sigyn cozies on in, snuggling up against him with her back against his front. Just lounging in his lap with those long, spindly legs of his sticking out like two stringy bean poles on either side.

"Tell me a story." Sigyn purrs, resting her head beneath his chin.

Loki smiles. Everything feels like it was. As it should be. Just like when they were children.

"Very well." He begins, cuddling her close. "There once was a Dark Prince with a dark heart and a dark soul who loved a very lovely Maiden made of light."

"Hmmm... I wonder whomever you could be referring..."

"Shush!" Loki scolds, pinching Sigyn's arm and making her giggle. "Anyway... Where was I? Ah, yes... So the Dark Prince tricked the Maiden into the most holy of matrimony. Only the Maiden wasn't a Maiden at all, but a lovely white bird with glittering wings. Like two rays of sunshine, they blinded the Dark Prince and off she flew into the sun."

"Oh no!" Sigyn pretends to gasp. "And then what happened?"

"Well, the Prince was so sad that he set out to follow after her, of course." Loki explains. "Across the realms he chased after her light, his darkness creating the night in his wake."

"And did he ever catch her?" Sigyn asks with a smile.

Loki nuzzles at the crown of her head with his chin, smiling into her hair.

"But of course." He replies. "Twice a day they'd meet. First at dusk and again at dawn. Every day from then unto eternity."

Taking her hand in his, he begins to fiddle with her ring, twirling it round her finger.

"Round and round the sun they go..." Loki says, a grin forming on his lips.

"Where do they stop?" Sigyn picks up, sucking in a giggle.

"Nobody knows!" Loki can't help himself, bursting into a laugh and Sigyn joins him.

Together they laugh, the sound only echoed by that of the hoots and hollers from the tavern close by.

"And what of our story?" She asks, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. "How does it end?"

"Ah! But that's the fun part." He replies with a striking smile. "Our story's just beginning!"

"We'll return Odin to the throne. Restore order across Asgard. Everyone will rejoice. Smiling faces all around. And you and I will live happily ever after." Loki embellishes. "Who knows. They might even throw a feast in our honor. A feast to last a century. No doubt Volstagg will be delighted."

Loki puts on a brave face for her, knowing well that their happily ever after will likely take place from within the confines of a prison cell. That is if Odin even allows for Sigyn to ever visit him.

"With chocolate cake?"

But Loki's not the only one in hiding. Sigyn knows that once their mission has come to pass, that she'll be called upon to return to Valhalla. And for all her want to stay, there'll be running away from her responsibilities this time. A great void has been made after her mother's passing and it'll be left up to her to fill it. She'll have no choice. Tis her duty.

"Of course!" Loki smiles fondly. "It wouldn't be much of a feast otherwise."

They'll be torn apart again. Plain and simple. And there's nothing they can do otherwise. Like the sun and the moon, they're simply just not meant to be.

"Loki?" Sigyn peeps softly, breaking up the silence that's fallen over them.

" _Hnnn?_ "

"Tell me everything will be alright?" She asks him.

Even if it's a lie.

"Everything will turn out just fine." He answers her.

Knowing that it is.

A lie.

But still, Sigyn smiles and rests her head easy atop his chest. Content in Loki's arms as if she hasn't a care in the world. Safe. Like nothing can touch her. Not here in their own special place with all the glittering stars and the lights in the sky. Here in this moment, everything else feels so very far away. Even a lie cannot harm her.

"Tell me another story?"

Reaching up, Sigyn cups Loki's face with her hand.

"Very well..." Loki smiles as he kisses the flesh of her palm, feeling the cool metal of the ring against his cheek.

And so he weaves for her another tale. And another. And another.

Tales of the past, the present, and the future. Stories woven together so masterfully as only Loki can tell them. Some filled with love and others adventure. He tells her story after story all through the night. Spending every waking moment he has left with her. And she with him. Both of them knowing that once the morning comes, everything will change. Their lives will never be the same. Because wherever Loki runs to, darkness will forever follow in his wake.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Someone on Instagram described Loki's greasy hair as noodles and I thought that was the cutest, funniest thing ever! lol. Just had to throw that in there**_


	60. Nefarious

**NEFARIOUS**

The daggers have been sharpened.

Poison imbued.

His armor is ready.

And so is Loki.

Today is the day.

There'll be no more running now. No more hiding. Today they finally go and fetch Odin. And with him, they'll bring the fight back to Asgard. Like vermin, they'll drive those wicked sisters out once and for all.

But first, what to do about Sigyn?

He'd spent the better part of the morning thinking of just that very question. As he'd packed their supplies and readied her swords for her, Loki wracked his brain looking for just the right answer to this particular dilemma.

Most people in some similar bind would look to their closest of friends for help. Or family. But for Loki, who has none, he hasn't very many options. And he certainly isn't going to be carrying her off to his home planet, better known as the frigid wastelands of Jotunheim, that's for damned sure.

Enemies the Liar has many.

But friends?

So you can imagine Loki's surprise when the first person to pop into his bag-of-cats brain was none other than the good Agent Coulson. Or is it Director now? Tis so hard to keep track. But one thing's for certain, the Son of Coul is just as good at playing dead as Loki. A lie that most are unaware of. Most aside from the ultimate Liar, of course. Nothing gets past Loki. Which reminds him that he'll have to have a little heart to heart (emphasis on the _heart_ ) with that miraculous mortal. Find out how such a clever trick was done.

But regardless of all that, he's really the only person that Loki can think of with the means and the resources to keep Sigyn safe. Because that's what he does, right? Like the name suggests, a shield _protects_ people. And he is nothing if not true to that name.

Besides, what's he going to do? Say no? Not at all likely.

Through and through, Coulson is loyal to his cause. And like most so-called-heroes, to a _fault_. He'd sooner lay down his life (again) than to abandon his principles. He'd die before letting the good people down. And as much as the man might hate Loki (which is a lot), he couldn't possibly put an innocent woman in jeopardy because of such a ridiculous vendetta. And what does he have to be mad about, anyway? Tis not like he died and _stayed_ dead. As far as Loki's concerned, tis water under the bridge, now. Ancient history.

Really, if anything, Coulson should _thank_ Loki. Because as the old adage goes, what doesn't kill you... Or kills you and you find a nifty new way to cheat death... Well, surely that only makes you stronger. And that strength is just what Loki needs right about now.

Across the way, Loki spies Sigyn and Hogun readying the junky old cruiser that Thor had won off a fellow bar patron the other night in an arm-wrestling match. Honestly, Loki would be surprised if the pile of bolts still flies, or if the lot of them walk away without catching a lovely bout of tetanus, but the Grim doesn't seem at all worried. But really, when does he ever? The man seriously has only _one_ facial expression. And that's _grim_.

Sigyn's busy filling the ship with supplies as little Elf children dart in and out, playing games, as children like to do. Curiously exploring the craft and its contents while entertaining the crew.

To Loki, such distractions have often been seen as a nuisance. Those wee sneaky creatures with their sticky, grabby hands and sharp teeth. Disgusting little germ factories with zero regard for authority and even less in the way of manners. They're often irritating and hardly ever cute. Until recently.

Watching Sigyn as she interacts with the little ones brings on this warm and fuzzy feeling that he's not at all accustomed to. The way she smiles and laughs with them... It reminds him of the way Frigga would act with _him_. Even though he wasn't even her own flesh and blood, she was still his mother all the same. And just like Frigga, Sigyn has that same loving way about her. That same kindness and warmth. Just like Frigga, Sigyn would really make for such a wonderful mother.

Which is even more reason why Loki must keep her safe at all costs.

One of the little Elven children runs up to Loki and unexpectedly hugs him at the knees, catching the Liar off his guard and nearly causing the unwitting Trickster to jump out of his pasty skin. He hasn't a clue what to even do in such an uncalled for situation such as this. But then the sweet little girl glances up at him and smiles. Still hugging onto his legs. All darling with her cute little pointed ears and wispy silver hair. And Loki can't help but smile back. His frigidness melts right there and then with one little hug.

Upon hearing giggling, Loki's head shoots in the direction to catch Sigyn staring. It's pretty obvious that she's the culprit responsible for coercing the little girl to go rush over and give her sourpuss husband a great, big hug. With a wave, Sigyn smiles at him, guilty and wide. Which in response, Loki playfully sticks out his tongue at her, making Sigyn laugh even more before ducking back inside the ship to return to her work.

And still the child holds fast to his legs. Looking up at him as if she expects something in return for her effort.

With a cautious eye, Loki looks all about him, making doubly sure no one is watching before he bends forward and returns the gesture, offering the girl a little hug around her tiny shoulders. He then reaches in one of his pockets and digs around for something sweet.

"Now don't you go telling your friends." Loki offers the girl a tasty treat. A bit of the leftover chocolate that he and Sigyn had shared the night prior. "I have a rather nefarious reputation to uphold, if you don't mind."

Eyes wide as saucers, the little Elf grabs at the candy with both hands and immediately stuffs the gob inside her mouth, making her cheeks swell to a hilarious size. Then, with a happy squeal, off she runs to go rejoin the rest of her friends and play.

For a moment more, Loki stands there watching as the little ones go about their merriment. Arms crossed at the chest. A warm smile on his face. Just taking it all in, the lot of it. The simplicity of it all. And thinking maybe, just _maybe_ , he could actually make for a wonderful father, as well.

This is nice, he thinks to himself. He could verily get used to this simple sort of life.

Then someone grabs him from behind and breaks him from his lovely daydream.

Slender arms snake around his torso, hugging Loki from the back.

"One for the road?" Sigyn's voice purrs into his cape.

The Mischief Maker grins wickedly.

"Lead the way."

He takes her hand and off she leads him, back through the bustling tavern, already busy with patrons even at this early hour, then up the stairs and to their room. In the door they burst. A mess of greedy hands, clawing and pawing all over as Loki slams the door behind them with the heel of his boot.

"Well, this is certainly a surprise." He rasps into her neck.

Grabbing Sigyn just bellow the buttocks, Loki lifts her up and holds her firmly against the back of the closed door. Pressed tight against his body as she wraps her legs around his waist.

She rakes her nails against his scalp as he nibbles at her neck, mayhap digging them in just a little too sharp as he moves on to her ear.

"OW!" He yelps, almost dropping her from the sudden sting of pain.

She always enjoys it when he plays with her ears. It's like her _thing_. So he wasn't at all expecting such a harsh form of punishment from his affection. Nor has she ever used her nails on him like that before.

Letting her down gently, Loki runs his fingers through his hair, tentatively checking to see if she'd drawn any blood.

"Ow..." Again, he groans. "Trus _sthhh_..."

Sticking her fingers in his mouth, she silences him, keeping Loki from finishing what he was saying. Their so-called safe word. Not that he's ever truly needed it. Not really. She's never actually _hurt_ him before.

Okay... Strike that.

Sure she's struck him, but only when he's _deserved_ it.

Mostly.

With wide eyes, Loki stares at her oddly. This is certainly not typical to Sigyn's sexy time behavior. Not that he's at all complaining, of course. Tis just a tad kinkier than he's used to with her. That's all.

But then there's something else. With her hand in his mouth as it is, Loki immediately notices a certain little something is conspicuously missing.

"Where's your ring?" He asks her seriously, removing Sigyn's hand from between his lips. "Please tell me you haven't lost it alread- Hey. Hey. _HEY!_ "

Hardly paying any mind to Loki's complaining, Sigyn's already begun work on his pants.

"What has gotten into you, woman?" Loki wonders, grabbing at her hand. "Why the rush?"

Sigyn rolls her eyes impatiently.

"Are you going to keep talking or are you going to fuck me already?" She hisses in return.

There's a coldness to her eyes. More so than usual and not in a nice way. Tis so terribly off but he can't quite seem to put his finger on it. And the sharpness in her tone takes him completely aback.

"Sunshine... Is everything alright?"

Sure, he's heard of mood swings, but this is ridiculous. This isn't at all like her. Not one bit.

But as her warm body closes in to his, her hot breath tickling at his ear, tis not his brain that he's at all thinking with, exactly. Not the one that counts for much, anyway. She begins kneading at his groin, just on the outside of his already too tight leather pants, and all thought disappears completely. Rational or otherwise. All that's left is the hunger. The need to feed the monster.

"Let's play a game." Standing on her toes, she reaches up to whisper seductively in his ear. "Treat me like your whore."

Loki has to take a step backward, drawing back his neck so he can look her in the face to see if she's being serious or not.

"Yeah?" He asks, surprised by her orders.

To this, she only grins in a wicked sort of way. The sort of way which is incredibly exciting. As is this whole situation. This new little roleplaying game that she's invented is all sorts of thrilling and fun.

"Very well..." With a growl in his chest, Loki indulges her by playing along. "As you wish."

And in doing so, he grabs a fist-full of Sigyn's hair and yanks her forward, forcing the woman to her knees.

Head held high and almighty, Loki looks down at her from the tip of his nose and scowls at her most threateningly.

"Kneel!"


	61. Loki Is As Loki Does

**LOKI IS AS LOKI DOES**

Adjusting his pants, Loki fixes himself up. Making himself more presentable in order to rejoin the outside world after getting down and dirty (emphasis on the dirty) with his wife.

As per her role, she'd already dressed and gone. Without as much as a word, just up and left him. Which is a shame really. Loki's not too man to admit that he truly does enjoy the post-coital cuddles.

They, like two little mice settled down for the long winter's nap. All cozy and warm snuggled up against the gentle curves of her body. His nose buried deep inside her soft nest of sweet-smelling hair. The whole world sits so quiet and still in those few, sacred moments. The two of them, just laying there so peacefully while he listens to her gentle breathing as she drifts off into the realm of sleep.

But still, this was fun. And good to get one last go in before Gods knows when he'll even see her again.

 _If_ he'll ever see her again...

But he really shouldn't think like that. Now's not the time to start doubting oneself.

Right...

Stay positive.

Stick to the plan.

Once at the portal, he'll ditch Thor and the others to go bring Sigyn to Midgard.

Aye.

That's exactly what he'll do.

Cause a little bit of a raucous. Bring Coulson to him. Yada yada...

It'll be _easy_.

Easy as scrumptious golden apple pie.

 _Mmmm_... He could totally go for some pie right about now...

Once good and proper, Loki leaves the little room far behind him. His and Sigyn's honeymoon suite, as it were. Nothing but a fond memory now.

Loki steps outside and into the blinding Elven sun, letting his eyes adjust from that of the dark and hazy beer house below the Inn and back into civilization.

Raising a hand to his eye, he spots Sigyn playing with the little ones beside the ship, which looks just about ready for departure soon enough. With their shrill little giggles, the children all scatter this way and that as he approaches. Only Sigyn remains, awaiting his company.

He can't wipe the smile from his lips as he scoops her up into his arms. Nor can she help her own giggling as he buries his nose into her neck.

"My, aren't we affectionate this morning!" Sigyn laughs.

"Mmm..." Loki moans into her hair. "As affectionate as you are wicked, my naughty little wife."

Raising an eyebrow, Sigyn stares at him funny.

"Ohhh... Am I naughty, now?"

"Aye." He returns slyly. "The naughtiest."

"And why am I so naughty?"

"You knowwww..." He sings-songs, swaying her body to and fro playfully in his arms.

"Nayyy, I don't." She sings in return, copying his teasing tone. In all honesty, she really hasn't a clue what Loki's going on about. "Tell me what I've done that is so naughty."

Loki stops his swaying now. Looking her square in the eye, he can very well tell she has no idea what he's implying. Not even a little.

"Are you still playing your game?" He asks her, his voice no longer playing.

"And what game would that be?" She returns completely honest and oblivious.

How could she not know? All the things that they'd done. All the terrible, nasty, unspeakable things. As shameful as they were sinful.

Only it wasn't even her...

It wasn't Sigyn at all.

Taking her hand in his, Loki notices the golden wedding band still worn proud upon her finger. She hadn't lost it. She hadn't even taken it off. How stupid could he be to even think she ever would?

How stupid could he be to have been tricked so easily?

Loki suddenly feels very sick, close to vomiting. The world is spinning too fast and his head is spinning along with it. He needs to sit down before he loses his balance and falls over the edge, but his knees are completely locked into place. He can't move. He can't even budge a single muscle. It feels almost as if he's having a total out of body experience. Which is almost nice, really. Because right about now he wishes he were anywhere else but here. Or anyone else but him at this moment.

But what did he expect really? To be Loki is to fail. Even at the things that matter to him the most. Sooner or later, he's bound to let everyone down. Thor. Frigga. Sigyn... _Especially_ Sigyn. Anyone who he's ever truly loved. Anyone who's ever fully loved him in return. The closer one gets to the Liar, the worse off their punishment. For Thor it was banishment. Frigga, death. And as for Sigyn? His lovely, loyal wife? For her it is an eternity of never ceasing torment. That Loki's bound by fate to keep on hurting her over and over and over again until the end of time. And this time, this wound, is completely unforgivable.

"What's wrong?" Sigyn asks him, now worried as she stares into his vacant eyes.

"Nothing." He forces for her a fake smile.

Things had been going so well that he'd allowed himself to grow accustomed to the feel of it. He'd allowed himself to become complacent and soft. He'd lost his edge and with it, his ability to perceive things the way they truly are. That he's a _loser_. That he's not destined to win. Or to love. Or to be happy. Or to get the girl and ride off into the sunset happily ever after. That he'll never have any of those things and will never be anything more than just.. plain.. _Loki_.

And Loki is as Loki does.

Which right about now, the one and only thing that Loki would really like to do is snap that witch's fair, white neck.

"Nothing at all, my love."

Cupping her face gently in his hands, Loki leans in to give her a sweet kiss on the forehead. He can't even bear to kiss her lips after what he had done. After they'd been tarnished by that Seductress, Lorelei, and her filthy, obscene mouth. Sigyn doesn't deserve that. She doesn't deserve _him_. But he swears to her, this time, he'll make things right. Everything will be so much better once that little whore is good and dead. To that, he promises.

From the corner of his eye, Loki can see a figure moving far off in the woods. He focuses on that spot until he can just make out a face. His already frigid blood grows colder at the sight of it.

Hiding in plain sight among the cover of the trees is none other than Sigyn. Or more appropriately, Lorelei wearing Sigyn's face. Just standing there. Watching. With a big, ugly grin on that stolen face of hers. _Taunting_ him.

"I just remembered there's something I need to take care of before we set off." Loki says, his voice a million miles away as he stares a hole clean through the witch in the woods.

Loki never pays for anything, certainly not his crimes. But this time he thinks he'll make an exception, and he'll pay it forward in blood. Lorelei and her damned sister, both. He's going to bleed those bitches dry.

He'd warned her. Loki had warned Lorelei of the consequences should she ever touch him again, that it would verily be her last. And what more, should she ever dare to imitate Sigyn, should she ever dare to harm or blaspheme her in any way, the simple trollop would suffer a fate far worse than any death imaginable.

Well, the Liesmith is done making warnings. Tis time to make good on his word.

Screw waiting for daddy and big brother to come and save the day. Tis Loki's turn to do what he should have done a long time ago. And it's about damned time, too. Those witches are going to fucking _burn_.

Pressing his forehead to hers, Loki whispers, "I love you. I love you so... _so_ much."

It may very well be the last thing he ever does say to her, so he wants it to be the truth. And it is. From the bottom of his broken soul, it just might be the only true words he's ever spoken to anyone, ever, for as long as he has lived.

"I love you, too, Loki." Sigyn says, clearly worried.

The dirty doppelganger turns and dissappears into the woods, and Loki follows after, leaving the real Sigyn behind him with nothing more to do than to watch and to wonder what in the world has gotten into her heretic husband.

"Stay here." He urges her, doing his best to hide the desperation in his voice as he motions with his hand to stay put. "Back in a tick. Promise!"

But when has the Liar ever kept his promise?

"Don't leave without me!" Loki calls back to her from over his shoulder. Waving as he races off toward the woods. And quite possibly off towards his death.


	62. The Lapdog

**THE LAPDOG**

It's a trap.

As Loki follows Lorelei deep into the forest, the Liesmith knows for a fact that it's a trap. And he's ready for it. Or as ready as he'll ever be. The witch may have tricked him once, but she'll not pull the wool over his eyes yet again, that's for damned sure.

Fool him once, shame on her. He'll rip her bleeding skull right off her spine. Peel the skin from her bones like a grape and take pleasure in the task. But, fool him twice? Well... Hopefully it won't come to that. Because should Loki be fooled yet again, likely it'll end and end badly for _him_ , with _his_ scraggly remains being torn apart and scattered all across the cosmos. And he really does rather enjoy living. What with the breathing and being held together all in one piece, and all. Especially now that he has something to live _for_. Besides causing all sorts of fine headaches for his adoptive brother, Thor, of course. Loki has someone to come home to. Alive. If she can ever find it in her already broken heart to forgive him for what he's done. And what he's about to do next. So, naturally, it would be in Loki's best interest to win this one.

Beyond the forest, Loki comes upon a clearing. Circular in shape and surrounded on all sides by the tallest and thickest of trees, and yet this little plot of land has none. Tis completely barren. An unholy, empty, nothing. Nothing except for what seems like a dead little creature at its center. As Loki approaches, he realizes it's a bird. A magpie of all things.

"Well, that doesn't bode well." The Trickster mumbles to himself, kneeling beside the poor, mangled thing.

Its neck had been twisted. Its cold, black eyes staring up at him from an unatural angle.

Loki reaches for the bird. His fingers graze the tips of its stiff, black feathers momentarily before gently taking the frail and lifeless thing into his hand.

"Not well at all..."

The whole scene seems to shift and change shape. What was the clearing is no more. In its place is now a cavern. A deep, black hole with no end and no light. No hope. And no turning back.

Rising to his feet, Loki drops the dead bird and presses forward, summoning his green magic to light the way.

Through the twisting catacombs he travels into the belly of the beast. The walls lined with countless dead, bones parched and brittle from centuries of decay. The meat has long since been consumed by the insects and rodents, leaving nothing but the skeletal remains. Picked clean with little resemblance to the man or woman or child which they once were or the skin that they once wore. But still that _smell_ remains. That stench of death which clings like cobwebs, heavy in the thick, stale air. A stench the Liesmith knows just a little all too well.

And yet he pays the dead no mind. Loki's seen enough bodies in his ample lifetime. Enough to fill this subterranean passage and then some. Many of which to have died by his hands, or his orders. This is nothing. Certainly not enough to make the Trickster lose his nerve.

Finding his way to the inner most chamber located at the heart of this maze, Loki extinguishes his flame and steps inside into the light. He's immediately bombarded by the brightness of the room. That and the might of two strong-armed soldiers of Asgard. One to either side, they each grab an arm and force Loki to his knees.

"Loki, the lapdog..." Lorelei coos. "Hello, lover."

Knees to the dirt, Loki scowls with pure hatred.

"Spare me your pleasantries." He growls.

"But we've come all this way..." Amora sighs exhaustively. "The least you can do is _try_ not to be rude."

Forever bored, the Enchantress drapes herself about the scenery, becoming one with the limestone and the rock that makes up this dank, spacious room. A sight which is all too befitting of her cold personality, really. The woman's as hard and stony as granite. With eyes just as lifeless.

"And WHY have you come?" Loki seethes. "You HAVE Asgard. You HAVE the throne. WHY come at all? Other than to make my life a living HEL?"

"Oh, it wasn't all bad, was it?" Lorelei sings sweetly, crouching down beside the trapped Trickster. "After all the fun we had... Really? You'd liken it to Hel?"

Loki recoils as Lorelei touches his face. Her fingers might as well be made of acid by the way that he reacts. But for all his struggling, the guards hold steady to his limbs, keeping the Mischief God in his place. Controlled and contained, but not at all compliant. The Liar draws his head back and launches a large wad of spit right at the Seductress' face.

"What?" Lorelei grins at him. "No kiss?"

She doesn't even flinch as the viscous substance dribbles down her cheek, wiping it from her chin with the back of her hand without even the slightest hint of offense.

"I think it best you teach your pet some better manners." Amora scolds her sister on Loki's foul behavior, demeaning the God as her 'pet'. "He's not as house-broken as you'd admitted he'd be."

"Oh... He'll behave." Lorelei just smiles dearly.

Despite his protests, the witch continues to pet on him as if he were a dog, her _lapdog_ as she'd named him. Stroking at his hair and twirling the braid that Sigyn had fashioned round and round her wicked fingers.

"I'm going to kill you." Loki says in an eerily calm voice. "All of you."

He then looks up at Lorelei and smiles.

"But first, you." He tells her in rare honesty. "Slowly."

Such a frightening look, it would give even the most hardened of soldiers the shivers. But for Amora and Lorelei, the pair of witches just laugh.

"Now THERE'S that bravado I adore!" Amora laughs good and hard. "That FIRE!"

"Oh, please. This one's all bark and no bite." Lorelei giggles. She playfully grabs a handful of his hair and tussles it about like a child, but just a little too rough. "He's harmless. His brother's got him leashed up nicely."

She's referring to the fact that Thor's condemned him and his crew not to kill their own men, Loki included. That the Aesir soldiers under the sister's influence are not to be harmed no matter the reason.

"Am I right?" Lorelei baby talks as a means to humiliate her captive. "Who's a good boy? _Who's a good boy_?"

Except for one thing...

Thor's not here.

And Loki is nobody's _good_ boy.

From out of his sleeves, daggers slide into his waiting hands. Loki lunges his body forward with everything he's got, catching the seduced soldiers off their guard and off their balance. He then twirls the blades in his palms so that the sharp ends are now facing backwards, which he then quickly and firmly thrusts into the unsuspecting mens stomachs as they stumble forward with him.

They never knew what hit them.

As quick as a viper, Loki strikes before the bodies even hit the floor. A streak of cobalt blue tears through the air. His blade aimed right at that little lying Delilah's throat. The killshot is well within his reach. He's got her dead to rights.

But then, he stops.

Just inches short of his mark, Loki stops his blade. As does his whole body seem to stop. He just stands there mid-motion, completely frozen into place, like someone else has taken control of all his functions. He's lost the ability to move on his own volition.

"See... What did I tell you, sister?" Lorelei grins wickedly, staring down the knife that almost felled her with a calm sense of pride. "He'll behave. They _always_ behave."

Loki's eyes widen. Or at least they would if he could do so. He recognizes this brand of magic. Tis old. Archaic, really, but nonetheless effective. Blood control. And it's exactly as it sounds.

Collect a bit of blood. In this case the scratch she'd given him during their foray into foreplay. Add a dash of hair. Surely she'd torn out a nice chunk earlier as she was tussling his hair. Then whatever bodily fluids added to the pot is simply the icing on the cake. The icky, yucky, gross and bloody cake.

Some would call it voodoo. Loki just chalks it up to yet another cheap trick.

He had conquered the ability to withstand her witchy womanly wiles, so she had to go ahead and up the ante, didn't she? And it worked. The Seductress has got the Trickster fooled yet again. And this time, she's made him her own personal puppet.

Sure, Loki can still think for himself, so there's that. At least he has his head about him. But everything else is a slave to her mercy. Or the complete lack thereof.

What a strange and foreign feeling for one's body to move on its own accord. As Loki turns the blade on himself, his brain is yelling at his muscles to obey his command, but the message simply isn't going through. All the wiring's been hacked.

Panic sets in as the cool kiss of metal touches his neck. The sting of pain as the blade presses itself gently against his skin. Not enough to pierce right through the flesh, but just enough to get his attention. For all of his pain receptors and those lovely survival triggers to go blaring on high alert. Tis just enough to prove a point that there is absolutely nothing he can do about it.

"Men are like dogs, really." Lorelei happily inspects her work, leaning in to admire the bead of crimson forming at his throat. "Easy to train and so eager to please their master."

Looking him square in the eye now, she smiles, quite pleased with herself.

"Isn't that right, Lapdog?"

Now more than ever, he wants to slit her freaking throat. Jamb his thumbs into her eyeballs and feel the warm rush of blood flow down his elbows. Experience the satisfying sensation of her skull crunching beneath his Jotun fingertips...

But first, he's got to get out of this mess.

There isn't a spell or curse in existence that Loki can't unravel. This one's no different. The Liesmith can weasel his way out of this one, yet. He's just got to concentrate and be patient. Start with the head. Since he's still got control of his mind, best to start there and work his way down. Let's get that silver tongue of his up and working again.

"Fwh... whhh..."

Loki forces the air past his lips, but still his mouth will not move. Not completely just yet.

Hands on her knees like a child, Lorelei watches his struggle with a sadistic sense of intrigue.

"Awwe!" She giggles at his plight. "You're trying so hard to fight it, aren't you boy?"

Amora rolls her eyes at her sister's joyfulness, but that doesn't put a damper on Lorelei's fun. Not one bit. With great, big puppy dog eyes, she glances up at her sister sweetly.

"Can I keep him?" She pleads.

"I don't care what you do with him once all this is over." Amora groans. "But until then, please, put a muzzle on him before I tear out his tongue. Really, you should have better control of your things. If you're not going to take your spellwork seriously..."

"My spellwork is fine enough. He's just stubborn and free-spirited, is all." Lorelei whines. "But no worries. I'll break his spirit, yet."

Loki's skin starts to crawl as Lorelei strokes at his face gently, tucking the loose hairs behind his ears with a lover's care. He can feel his arms moving again, this time to remove the blade from at his neck and replace it safely back inside the sheath within his tunic.

"Isn't that right, Lapdog Loki?" She grins into his neck.

He had such a wonderful plan, Loki thinks to himself. Sigyn would be safe and he'd return the victor. He'd be the _hero_. Just this once. Just this once he wouldn't fail.

"Whhh... Whh..."

"Wh-Wh-Why are we doing this? What are we going to do with you?" Lorelei pokes fun at Loki's inability to speak. "Because that's what you were going to ask, am I correct? What does all of this have to do with you? Why YOU? You, you, you... Poor _you_. Poor, sad, unloved Loki."

From behind, Lorelei wraps her arms around his waist, treating him as if he were a brand new teddy. A _thing_ which she adores. She places her chin upon his shoulder and squeezes onto him tight.

"You're so vain, I'll bet you think this song is about you." Lorelei taunts, her voice grating as she sings into his ear. "Don't you? Don't you?"

He recognizes the tune as one from Midgard. An annoying little song which he doesn't much care for. Nor does he care much for his current situation, really. What those lesser creatures account for music leaves much to be desired. So short and pointless, as is their lives, without any of the pomp or appeal that the lengthy ballads of Asgard tend to carry. Tis little wonder Lorelei had grown quite a liking to such frivolity upon her jaunt on Earth. They're both equally as nauseating. And not so easy on the ears, either.

"Fwwwuhh... Ffffff..."

Though Loki can't see her, he can't move his head in order to, the Mischief God can tell quite clearly that Amora has stepped down off her perch. Like a wave of darkness, he can feel her aura move about the cavern towards him.

"You men are all the same, you know. Always making everything about _you_." Amora sighs from somewhere near. "You think the whole bloody _world_ revolves around you. But it doesn't."

Appearing in front of him, Amora grabs Loki's chin to turn his head in her direction.

"You see, the world does not revolve around the _moon_ , dear Loki." She's sure to make herself clear, looking him straight in the eye to watch for a reaction. "It revolves around the _sun_."

She doesn't even have to say her name. He knows exactly who she means.

"Sigyn." Loki speaks.

Amora looks at him impressed, or at least slightly impressed that he could find his voice while under Lorelei's control. He doesn't even have to force it. His feelings for Sigyn are so strong that her name slips out so easily despite the spell. Sensing she's in danger is enough to help him break free. At least just a little

"If you harm hhh..."

But whatever progress Loki's made is instantly vanquished by Amora. She places a single finger to his lips and suddenly his voice is silent yet again.

"Shhhh..." The Enchantress calls for quiet, eyes moving towards the open doorway which Loki had entered not moments earlier.

A sickening grin slithers its way upon her venomous lips. Wide and so very much terrifying. Especially given the fact that Loki's never seen the woman smile. Not once in all the time he's known her. The expression doesn't look at all natural on the Enchantress. Tis off-putting. But not nearly as chilling as the thought of what's to become of the woman he loves.

Sigyn.

Always so lethargic and bored, Amora stares at the doorway with more interest than Loki has ever noticed before. Not since that day in the throne room when she as Odin had to break the news to Sigyn of her mother's death.

Suddenly the gears are all starting to sync into place. His brain is whirring in dread. All of this... Since the very beginning. It's all been leading to this moment. This has been their endgame all along. To hurt Sigyn. In every way possible. And he just went along for the ride. Loki handed her right to them. Signed. Sealed. And delivered.

"And here comes the sun, now."

* * *

 _ **A/N: Squee! Can't wait to see Ragnarok this weekend! So excited! Who else is going?**_

 _ **On another note, always loved Lorelei calling Loki a lapdog in the Agent of Asgard comics. Just had to throw that in there. Along with a Phantom of the Opera reference, Doctor Who, Star Wars, Carly Simon, and the Beatles, for good measure. Cuz, why not?! Xoxo**_


	63. Nothing

**NOTHING**

Loki remembers it. All of it. The fall. Right down to the very last excruciating detail. But most importantly, he remembers the feeling of nothingness. Not just the total isolation in the foreign black of space or the physical feeling of total weightlessness, but the complete and utter _nothing_. The feeling of absolute zero. All around him and inside him. Loki had felt like a total failure. Like it was better had he never existed at all.

And he was fine with that.

The nothingness.

He'd resigned himself to give up. To give in to the void and just let himself fall and slip away. To become nothing. Nothing but a painful memory.

And now?

Now he feels that same sense of nothingness. That same hopelessness and despair. Just like then except for one very important detail. Though Lorelei has taken control of his body and his actions are now not at all his own, Loki hasn't given in. He hasn't even begun to give up the fight.

Footsteps echo in the distance. The chamber lies so dead and quiet that they can hear every single step, no matter how silent their intruder tries her best to be.

The gentle slosh of dirty water when a boot meets a puddle.

The low screech of metal as a blade is drawn from its scabbard.

Every sound is deafening. Drowned out only by that of his own heartbeat, a crashing roar inside his ears.

Loki can feel his body moving again as Lorelei maneuvers him into place at the back of the room but still visible from the entrance. His positioning is not meant for an attack, which is a relief to the married Mischief Maker, but for what purpose Lorelei has in store for him, tis enough to make the Liesmith wary.

Lorelei then takes her place beside him, clearing the floor for their soon to be guest. She excitedly loops an arm inside his. So giddy, the woman can hardly stand still. Like a child, she eagerly hops from one foot to the next, biting her tongue to keep from squealing out loud. Which in turn, makes Loki even more nervous. His heart is racing so fast, faster than he can even think straight. But still he does his best to keep his head about him. To try not to worry _too_ hard. Worrying won't do him or Sigyn any good right about now. Not when his talents are better used in devising a plan to get out of this mess. He needs to concentrate on the problem at hand. Keep working away at this enchantment. Keep his emotions in check. But in the end, it's useless. When it comes to Sigyn, his emotions will always take the lead. Because while he may be nothing, or even less than nothing at times, she will always be his _everything_.

"Are you ready, Lover?" Lorelei grins into his ear, making Loki cringe inside.

Loki's eyes focus on the empty doorway. The anticipation is killing him. He feels absolutely sick down to his stomach. And just when he thinks he may verily go mad, finally she shows herself. Sword in hand, Sigyn appears from out of the darkness. Ready for anything.

"Loki?"

He's the first thing she notices upon entering the room. Then again having followed him here, of course she'd expected to find her suspicious spouse inside. Even if she hasn't the foggiest to whatever shady business he's been hiding from her.

"What are you..."

Sigyn was half-inclined to think she'd find herself walking in on some manner of deal of sorts. Maybe he's been selling secrets on the side. Or maybe he'd cheated some bloke out of a game of cards and now's time to pay due with a great, big boot up his lily white arse. One never knows what strange events may occur when married to the ultimate Trickster. She should expect the unexpected. But whatever Sigyn was expecting, surely she wasn't expecting _this_.

"Sisters?"

And neither was Loki.

He wasn't expecting that at all.

"Sisters?" He repeats, not even realizing that he'd spoken. It comes as such a surprise that his words are purely a reaction.

Lorelei rests her chin against his shoulder, grinning madly against his cheek.

"I think someone's starting to get it." The witch sing-songs in his ear.

And get it, he does.

This was never about the throne or Asgard or even Lorelei and her jealousy as a jilted lover. Nay. This is and has always been a _family_ affair. A feud between sisters. Between blood.

 _In her lifetime, my mother had many daughters..._

Loki remembers Sigyn's words.

 _And all with different fathers..._

How could he forget?

Three sisters...

His eyes shoot to Lorelei whose grin only ever seems to grow. Tis as if she knows exactly what he's thinking.

Three sisters, and he's gone and slept with _two_ of them.

From under his breath, Loki mutters, "Bollocks."

He'd messed up. Good and proper. He'd really fucked things up royally this time.

"What are you doing here?" Sigyn asks her sisters, taking a cautious step into the room. "Who let you out of your prison?"

As if she even has to ask. Loki may as well have a bright red target drawn on him.

"You mean our _cage_?" Amora grins menacingly. "What... No _hello_ , dear sister? How are you? Hope all's well? Lovely wedding, by the way. So sad we weren't invited."

She tries to open with formalities, to pretend as if she cares, but Sigyn sees right through her ill disguise.

"You tried to destroy Valhalla!" She cries, cutting right to the chase.

As a stranger in this argument, Loki hasn't any idea what the history is between these three estranged siblings. Hel... Up until five seconds ago, he didn't even know they _were_ siblings! But whatever it is that had transpired in the past, surely it was bad. Bad enough to lock both Amora and Lorelei away for all eternity and throw away the key. That is until his stupid arse set them free.

"You're right." Amora sighs, looking down at the ground in feigned shame. "You were right and I was wrong."

With her hands behind her back, like a viper, the Enchantress slowly sulks towards Sigyn.

"So many lives lost. So much time wasted. And for what?" She confesses. "If my time in confinement has awarded me anything, sister, it's the ability to acknowledge my mistakes. It was wrong of me to attempt to destroy Valhalla, when a better use of my power would have been in destroying YOU instead!"

In a flash, the Enchantress strikes. Sigyn raises her sword and Amora raises her hand. A clash of steel against magic. But sadly one blade alone is no match against the might of that witch. Amora casts her hand. A single flick of the wrist and she forces Sigyn to yield.

The very ore in the earth twists and forms into chains, launching themselves from beneath Sigyn's feet to wrap around her arms and legs tight. As if alive, they slither and coil, making her a prisoner right where she stands.

"Sister... Sigyn... Mother's little _Victory_." Amora taunts as she removes the sword from Sigyn's hand with ease. "She who Mother loved above all else. Above all her other daughters."

The Enchantress turns her head towards Loki's direction as if to address him, but really she could care less for his opinion on the matter.

"You know what she is, yes?" She muses, not that she's waiting for a reply. "Surely the wings were a dead giveaway."

Amora returns her attention to her captive, holding Sigyn's chin in her hand.

"Valkyrie. One of the winged warrior women of Valhalla. The chosen. The _worthy_..." Amora grimaces, squeezing Sigyn's chin and cheeks just a little too tight. "But has she ever told you, I wonder, what becomes of the _un_ -worthy? Those not chosen to join with the Sisterhood of Valhalla?"

Letting go of Sigyn's chin, Amora gives her cheek a little slap.

"To be a Valkyrie is a life of _sacrifice_. But what is it they're sacrificing, exactly?" She wonders out loud. "What happens to the men? Ever see a male Valkyrie? All those baby boys born unto the Order... Or what about those who will never grow their wings? Those not _destined_ to become Valkyrie? What happens to _them_?"

 _Not every child born to a Valkyrie will become a Valkyrie, herself..._

"And what about the Valkyrie who are unable to conceive? Those sad, barren women who cannot produce the next generation of winged she-spawn?" Amora begs the question, eyeing her other sister, the one currently hugging onto Loki like a leach. "Well... Tis enough to drive any sensible person _mad_."

It's obvious Amora speaks for herself and Lorelei. Amora, who was not born a Valkyrie like her sisters. And Lorelei, poor Lorelei who could not bear any children. Though not from lack of trying. And try she did. Over and over again, she'd try to prove her worth, until it verily drove her over the edge.

Two sisters. Broken things. Unwanted and unloved.

Loki can relate. He has some experience with what it's like being the outsider. Being unworthy of one's own race. Imperfect. Born different. _Wrong_. And what happens to those who do not fit the mold of those who came before them. The cold, deadly truth behind it all. Despite one's lineage, those born an aberration are simply an embarrassment to be swept under the proverbial rug. They do not survive for very long. No matter how cute or cuddly or young. Not in such a house of noble blood.

For an instant, Loki even lets himself feel sorry for the two sisters. But only for an instant.

"Every day I waited for my wings to come in. Every. Single. Day. And every day it became more and more obvious that they never would. Every day was only another step closer to my end." Amora tells Sigyn. "He started treating me different. My father. Like I was a disappointment. Like I was nothing but a great big waste of his time. And then one day, my father told me that mother would be coming for me. But I knew better. I was only twelve, but I knew it then. She wasn't coming to take me to Valhalla. Nay... She was coming to _kill_ me. To erase the mistake that she had made. So I left. In the dead of night, I ran away and never looked back." She confides. "I found more like me, too. More sisters. More brothers. More _mistakes_. Nothing but graves upon graves. Until I found Lorelei. And together, we promised each other that Valhalla would pay. That _mother_ would pay. They'd all bloody pay."

With puppy dog eyes, Lorelei follows Amora as she walks and talks around the room. It's pretty clear just how deeply she idolizes and appreciates the Enchantress. How she hangs on every word. She'd have nothing and no one if it were not for her sister. She'd _be_ nothing and no one.

"Together, we ran away to Nornheim where we learned our magic and perfected our revenge. But despite all our combined effort, we still failed in our mission to destroy Valhalla. Not because our power failed us, but because our vengeance wasn't justified. You see, an outsider cannot bring down those golden walls. But from the inside... Imagine what we could accomplish!"

"So that's it, then?" Sigyn growls. "If you expect me to help you take down Valhalla from the inside..."

Both Amora and Lorelei laugh.

"Oh...That's so cute. You think I want your _help_." Amora snickers. "Nay. My plans have long since changed from those dark days of pure destruction. What I want is so much more than mere chaos and vengeance, dear sister. I wish not to _destroy_ Valhalla but to build it back up. To make it the great empire it once was and can still be again."

"And you expect all the other Valkyrie to what, exactly? Just follow you? Is that it?" Sigyn argues. "This is a time of peace, not conquest. Under the agreement, we have enjoyed centuries living side by side with our Asgardian allies. Our Valkyrie Sisters will not abandon the treaty so lightly."

"Treaty..." Amora scoffs. "Treaties are for the weak and weak-minded. Put in effect by men up high to keep women in our place. Beneath them. Obedient in our servitude like they like it. You see, they fear our strength. Our power. Our numbers. And that's all I'm trying to do, really. Restore the status quo, the natural order of the universe by returning Valhalla to its crowning glory. Right at the top of the food chain where it belongs. It's our turn now, sister. Let the house of Odin Borson serve _us_ for a change."

"They'll still not follow you." Sigyn growls, tugging at her restraints. "They'll still not follow you to such mutiny."

"And what, then? They should follow _you_ , instead?" Amora asks with a hint of humor in her tone.

Another flick of the wrist and the earthen chains twist uncomfortably, forcing Sigyn to her knees beneath her elder sister.

"You've molted recently, have you not?" Amora asks, running her fingers along the smooth, milky skin of Sigyn's shoulder blade.

Twirling her hand, she magically produces a feather from out of thin air. One of Sigyn's. Likely gathered from the little nook in the mountain where both she and Loki had holed up for the night.

"There's only one time in all a Valkyrie's life when that happens." Amora spins the feather between her fingers. "Your feathers need to be heavier to support the extra weight."

Dropping the feather, she lets it float to the ground.

"You're with child."

Lorelei begins to squeal with excitement. She's been so quiet up until now, letting her sisters have the floor, they'd almost forgotten she was even in the same room.

"I'm going to be an Auntie!" She claps with delight. Turning to Loki, her living doll, she hugs him extra tight. "You must be so thrilled!"

And he is. Or he should be. Up until now, there was only speculation. He'd suspected. She'd denied it. She'd wanted one. He didn't. Back and forth they went. But now? Knowing the truth, the _answer_? Now he knows for certain he wants this more than anything he's ever wanted in all his entire life. And he should be thrilled. He should be celebrating. Not watching in torment as his wife and the mother of his unborn child is being persecuted as she is. And there's nothing he can do to stop it.

A single tear runs down his frozen cheek.

"You really think they'll follow you after the decisions that you've made? All the rules that you have broken?" Amora asks seriously. "I mean look at you. You're a disgrace to the Sisterhood. You've made a mockery of our laws by wedding THIS monster!"

Ever the observant one, Lorelei leans in close to whisper in Loki's ear.

"I think she's talking about _you_!" She teases.

"The rules are put in place for a reason, or have you forgotten?" Amora scolds. "How many times must Asgard betray us and our kind for you to _get_ it? There's no use making treaties with these swine. Men are nothing more than petty back stabbers, only ever in it for themselves. And you've gone and aligned yourself with the worst of them."

Amora kneels low, getting down to Sigyn's level so she can see her eye to eye.

"Your loyalty is misplaced, sister."

"I know exactly where my loyalty lies." Sigyn defends. Looking her sister square in the eye, she still refuses to back down, even despite the chains she wears. "I stand with Valhalla AND Asgard, both. I stand for ALL realms and ALL people. I stand with my husband..."

"Your husband?" Amora stops her. "You want to talk about your husband? Fine, then. Let's discuss Loki for a moment, shall we? Oh, I know! Let's talk about how he slaughtered our mother!"

Loki's heart leaps into his throat. He's absolutely petrified how Sigyn is going to react, but strange enough, she doesn't. She doesn't even bat an eye to such a big reveal.

"If you think to shock me, you'll have to do better than that." Sigyn says boldly. "I know my husband and I know what he's capable of. I _know_ he killed Mother."

Give the girl a little credit. It wouldn't take a genius. She'd figured it out shortly after finding out that Loki and Theoric were one and the same. It's something she's come to terms with. And let's be honest, her mother probably didn't give Loki very much of a choice. Knowing her mother and how much she hated the once son of Odin, the woman likely struck the first blow. He's lucky to have made it out with his life. Double lucky to still have use of all his limbs.

This realization leaves Loki stunned. Her reaction is better than anything he could have ever imagined or even hoped for. But not all news can be taken as easily. Some secrets are better left alone.

"You think you know your husband, do you? What he's _truly_ capable of?" Amora smirks and Loki cringes. He knows what's coming next. "Tis nice to see the two of you are so _open_ with one another. That you have such faith in your partner."

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" Lorelei begins to call attention to herself.

"If Mother's death comes to you as no surprise..."

"Let me do it!" Lorelei cuts in, raising her hand impatiently. "I want to do it!"

Amora casts her eager sister an icy glare and continues on.

"Then surely you're already well aware that Loki's been fucking Lorelei behind your back."

" _Ohhhh_... I wanted to be the one to tell her." Saddened, Lorelei grumbles.

Loki wishes they would just hurry up and kill him already. He's so absolutely mortified, he may as well be dead. There are no words for the level of shame he feels, watching as his wife begins to crumble. Powerless as the one good thing in all his life gets tragically ripped away.

"You seduced him with your magic." Sigyn does her best to stay strong, but the slight tremor in her voice betrays her. "His actions are not his own. He... He wouldn't..."

"Awww, but he would. And he did. No magic needed." Lorelei gushes, clinging onto her lover's arm. "We've been doing this for quite some time, now. Since well before the two of you happy little lovebirds even got together, really, so you mustn't be _too_ hard on yourself. He simply prefers me to you."

Lorelei begins stroking at his face again, putting on quite the show for her sister to see.

"I allow him to be who he _really_ is. The freedom to take that darkness and embrace it. While all you ever do is hold him back. Keep the monster locked inside him contained." She smiles and Loki can feel the muscles in his face reacting to her control over him, without his permission he smiles along, too. "Why, just this morning, we made all sorts of mischief. In the same bed in which you'd lain, in fact. Would you like to hear of all the fun we had? All the dirty little secrets we've shared while you're away?"

Sigyn focuses on the ground and not her sister's voice. Trying her hardest not to listen. To steel her heart and control her emotions. But the words keep pouring through. Like sharp little fingers, they pick and claw away at what little is still holding her together.

"That sting is the worst, is it not?" Lorelei giggles sadistically. "So cold that it hurts. Like screwing an icicle. Am I right?"

Her internal armor used to be so much thicker then. Before Loki came and tore down the walls in which she'd made all around her. Before she let love into her heart. Only for that heart to break into a million pieces.

"He likes it rough, you know. He likes to be the one in control. At least, that's how it is when _I'm_ with him." Lorelei boasts, nuzzling Loki's arm. "For all I know he fucks you differently. But when it's just the two of us, together as we are, he likes to make me beg. And scream. _Ohhh_ and he especially loves it when I call him King! Isn't that right, baby?"

Against his will, Loki begins kissing on Lorelei. All over her face and neck. In front of his wife.

"You grabbed me by my hair and forced me to my knees..." Lorelei rasps in a sexy drawl, recollecting their rendezvous from earlier. "Dragged me to the bed and bent me over."

"Enough." Sigyn whispers, but Lorelei doesn't give in. Instead, she pretends as if she doesn't hear her sister's feeble plea.

"Then you held me down and bound my arms behind my back so I couldn't move." Loki feels like gagging as he drags his tongue across her putrid flesh. "Kicked my legs open with your feet..."

"Enough." This time, Sigyn stifles a sob, but still to no avail. Lorelei's as cruel as she is relentless.

"You pressed my face into the mattress so hard I could barely breath. I thought I was going to suffocate!" She laughs lewdly.

"Please... Please, enough..."

Really all the Seductress had done was give Loki a taste of his own medicine. By disguising herself as Sigyn, she'd done exactly as he had with Theoric. It's no different. Except that Sigyn's the one who's paying for it.

" _Ohhh_ and I can still feel him inside me." Closing her eyes, Lorelei shivers as he runs his hands all across her body. "That chill it never quite leaves, now does it? Like a frigid pit of cold deep inside my belly. Between my legs..."

"I SAID ENOUGH!"

Sigyn screams so loud, she unexpectedly unleashes her Valkyrie cry, making the whole cavern begin to shake. The rocky walls start to crumble and fall down around them. Not a lot, but just enough to prove her bark is not without its bite. A reminder that Lorelei better not provoke and push her too far.

"Careful, sister Sigyn." Chiming in, Amora warns. "If you use your cry again, you'll kill us all, yourself included."

This location was no accident. A rocky cavern deep in the ground makes for the perfect location to trap a Valkyrie. Down here, she can't escape, nor can she gain the high ground advantage that her wings could afford her. And should she use her trademark cry, the echo poses the risk of bouncing back to kill her. That is if the whole cavern doesn't cave in and crush them all first.

"Why are you doing this?" Sigyn finally breaks down and cries.

"To prove a point." Amora lulls calmly. "That YOU are the one who's unworthy."

"Men are weak and can't be trusted. Asgard can't be trusted." Lorelei tisks. "And yet you chose to align yourself with these _animals_ over that of your own Sisters."

"You've let your emotions get the better of you. You lack the discipline it takes to be a Valkyrie." Amora sneers. "Your decisions and actions speak for themselves. If _this_ is the scum you've entrusted with our future, then the answer is easy. You're unfit to rule Valhalla."

Rule?

Loki may not understand what's going on exactly, but he knows a coup when he sees one. The sisters had used him to do their dirty work and kill their mother, and now they're going to do the same to Sigyn, the next in line. But first, they needed to break her. Even with two against one, she's much too strong for them. They'd never be able to take her down on their own. Not until they'd broken her spirit completely. And he'd helped them.

Loki can feel his hand form into a fist, but this time, under _his_ control. Sigyn's cry must have shaken something loose somehow. Broken Lorelei's connection if only for a moment. Which is all he really needs to get his foot back in the door and reclaim use over his own body.

"You may have had Mother's love, but I have her ruthless will and cutthroat spirit." The Enchantress says solemnly. "Wings or no wings, I have what it takes to be a Valkyrie. And I'll prove it by fixing her greatest mistake. _You_."

With her sister's sword in hand, Amora aims it right for Sigyn's throat.

"I just hope you don't think I'm doing this because I hate you, because I don't. I'll get no pleasure out of killing you like this." Amora presses the blade against her sister's skin and sighs. "In fact, you mean _nothing_ to me. Nothing at all."


	64. Severed

**SEVERED**

The Valkyrie adhere to and live by a strict set of rules. Never fall in love. Never get married. They'd sooner die than become a man's property. Never show one's emotions. No fear nor joy nor pain. Sacrifice is the key to survival. And attachments, the root of all suffering.

It's an unwritten law that Amora plans to uphold and to the greatest degree. First, by severing one such attachment in particular, Sigyn's head from off her shoulders.

Just another reason why it is customary for any potential successors to be raised by their fathers, far from any other siblings. It's to keep encounters like _this_ one from ever happening. As Loki should know, a bit of sibling rivalry can take a turn for the deadly when a seat of power is at stake.

"When I learned I had sisters, _real_ blood sisters just like me... It was the greatest feeling ever. Suddenly I wasn't so alone, anymore. And you don't have to be, either." Sigyn stares down the sword held to her neck. "We can be a family, again. A _real_ family."

But the word sister or family means nothing to Amora. Sigyn is only the next obstacle in her way to the front of the line.

"I'm sorry for the way mother treated you. _Both_ of you. Trust me, no one knows better how that woman could be than myself." Sigyn tries to reason. "Let's face it, Freya wasn't winning mother of the century. She was far from perfect. And aye, she'd done terrible things in her past. Unspeakable things. As have we all. But I'd like to think that she was trying to make good on her faults. She was trying to make good with _you_."

If Freya truly wanted her daughters dead, she could easily have done so. If not by her own hand, then by the might of the entirety of Valhalla backing her command. Instead, she let her children live. Locked away for all eternity, sure, but _alive_. Until Loki set them lose.

"Valhalla has been making great strides to fix the sins of our dark past, and so can you." Sigyn pleads. "I don't _care_ what horrible things you've done, sister, if only you would stop this madness. Let me go."

 _Is it madness? Is it..._

"Let you go?" Amora nearly laughs. "But I don't want your forgiveness. Nor do I want to be forgiven. By Valhalla or Asgard or anyone else. The only thing I really want... is to simply watch you suffer."

 _IS IT?!_

This all looks so familiar to Loki. Two siblings of separate paths colliding for power. The dark versus the light. Was it not so long ago when he was the one trying to defeat his big brother, Thor? Now, he's forced to relive and to watch as it all happens once again. Only this time, the shoe is on the other foot. He's actually found himself rooting for the forces of good.

Tis no lie that Loki's killed people, lots of people, in his quest for glory. As has he done terrible things and aligned himself with even more terrible creatures just to see himself through to the end. Which makes the Liesmith wonder if he's no better than Amora. Mayhap he'd only tricked himself into thinking that he was. But still, he _hopes_. He has to hope that he has changed. That he can still find redemption. That he is no more evil than that wicked witch.

By the Gods, was he ever this _cruel_?

"You've no more family, little one. Your line ends here."

A wave of her hand and Amora produces a great helmet of gold, large in size with sharp crescents to either end, much like a battle axe. Certainly not the prettiest thing, but where it's lacking in femininity, it makes up for in strength. Tis fierce. And familiar.

"Where..."

She needn't even finish her thought, Sigyn knows exactly where Amora had obtained such an item. Especially since _she_ was the one to have stolen it in the first place. Tis the same helmet that she had nicked from Odin's vault. That she had left in the safety of her brothers homestead after she'd asked them to guard it with their lives.

Which only means one thing.

Her brothers are dead. Her home is no more. And any hope she may have had to reason with Amora has died along with them. Her family ties, for whatever they were worth, are as good as broken. Amora has gotten exactly what she'd wanted. Any attachment Sigyn may have felt for her sisters has been severed.

Though she promised herself she wouldn't cry, that she wouldn't give her sisters the satisfaction, Sigyn just can't help herself, she cannot help her good, pure heart. The poor, broken Valkyrie breaks down into tears. Not only for her fallen brothers, but for everything. The weight of this situation is a load too heavy to bear and it's finally taken its toll.

"Awww... Poor baby." Lorelei coos, nudging Loki. "You know... I've always wondered what tears would taste like. Are they truly as salty as they say?"

Neither woman could ever understand what it is that Sigyn is going through. They've never felt a thing in all their entire lives. Nothing but rage. The only true emotion that Amora is capable of.

"Do you know the history of this helmet, sister?" The Enchantress inquires, holding the great thing high. "It was the crown of the very first Valkyrie. Brün, our grandmother. Well over a millennia ago. Back when the Old Gods ruled the skies. When WE were at the very center of the universe. Back before Asgard betrayed us. Just as _you've_ betrayed us all."

Amora places the crown atop Sigyn's head, then replaces her sword once again to her throat.

There'll be no talk of peace with her. No mercy. The Enchantress cares not for it now nor will she ever. Her only concern is that of eradicating her littlest sister and claiming her seat as her own. She not only wants to kill Sigyn, but to erase her entire existence. To wipe the slate clean so she may rule anew and unopposed. The witch is as ruthless as she is efficient. She'll not even afford her sister an honorable death, executing her while still bound and defenseless.

"Just as mother, the Goddess of Love, was named, I shall name you. Sigyn. Goddess of Fidelity. Loyal until the very end." Amora condemns. "Just as you shall fall, so shall Asgard. Consider this a mercy. You won't live long enough to see the demise of the land that you hold dear."

"Say hello to mother for me!" Lorelei merrily chimes in.

Sigyn never closes her eyes. She never blinks. Embracing the end, she accepts her fate head on and with both eyes open.

"I wish that things could have been different between us." Sigyn says her final words.

Filled with fire, the Valkyrie has stopped her weeping. She understands now that there's not a single thing she can say or do that could change her sister's mind. Amora is too far-gone, too lost in her own darkness to ever see the light again. If she ever did at all.

"And I wish that you were never born." Amora replies.

This is how she dies. And Sigyn's fine with that. She's made her peace and is ready to be reunited with her loved ones. All of them.

Except Loki isn't. He's not fine with this at all.

Cold fingers curl around the handle of a dagger. So tight that Loki's hand begins to shake.

"For Love." Amora scowls, readying her weapon.

His teeth grit to near cracking. So hard, he begins to taste the sharp, metallic taste of his own blood.

"For Loyalty." Lorelei taunts, eyes wide with excitement.

And in that moment, something clicks. Seeing Sigyn in imminent danger gives Loki just that extra boost needed to free himself of the enchantment. The magic lifts from behind his eyes and he regains full control of his entire body. And in his newfound freedom, he already knows what he wants to do first. Right out of the gate, the Liesmith spins his body around to stick a blade into Lorelei's side.

"For Asgard." He grins, giving the dagger a good twist.

The Trickster would love to savor the look of both pain and surprise on that sadistic Seductress' face, but as satisfying a sight as it may be (and it is), he's got a damsel that needs saving.

Removing the knife from between Lorelei's ribs, Loki then spins back around and hurls his blade through the air where it makes contact with the roots keeping Sigyn in place. The dagger wedges itself between the earthen chains, causing a small crack to form. But a small crack is all that is needed.

Just as Sigyn's cry had helped to shake things loose for Loki, he returns the favor by helping to free her from her own bondage. The rest, she can manage on her own.

The Valkyrie expands her wings and breaks out of her bindings in an explosion of rubble. Startled, Amora falls back.

From across the room, both Loki and Sigyn share a brief moment. Their eyes meet and she extends an unspoken thank you to him for coming to her aid. And while there's still so very much that needs to be said, especially in the way of apologies and explanations, they each know that such a talk can wait until later. Right now they've more pressing matters to attend to, such as putting an end to this dysfunctional little family reunion.

Clutching her sword, Amora scrambles to her feet. Sigyn grabs for the sister sword in the dual scabbard at her back. Now they've each got a weapon, making this a much fairer fight. Blade for blade, they're evenly matched.

Loki watches the exchange, the way they size each other up. Not as if they were sisters, but opponents. They do so as if they were the only two people in the room. As if this fight were the end-all of the century. Just as he had once or twice with Thor.

Such a look and Loki knows this battle belongs to Sigyn. Amora is hers and hers alone. Which is fine by him, really. He knows his woman is more than capable of handling herself in a fight. She'll lay that Enchantress out on her arse in no time.

Calling back his dagger to his hand, he turns his attention to Lorelei. He's got his own score to settle.

"We settle this by the ends of our swords, once and for all." Sigyn cries as her blade cuts through the air in a flash of silver.

"You took the words right out of my mouth, sister." Amora returns blow for blow.

For the fate of Valhalla and that of all the nine realms, the two sisters meet on the field of battle, sparks flying in dazzling copper and shimmering gold as their weapons clash.

Loki grins wickedly as the ladies do battle at his back. The dagger in his hand begs for sweet retribution, a tribute which he vows to make slick with the blood of that treacherous she-devil, Lorelei. Just as Sigyn may have a bone to pick with her sister Amora, as does Loki with the less important, but equally as vexing Lorelei. He'll rip every single one of her bones right out of that pretty little meat suit.

"You pervert Valhalla's laws." Sigyn growls as they lock swords right down to the very hilt. The sound of steel screams as metal grinds against metal. "Twist them to your own gain."

"And what is wrong with THAT, dear sister?" Amora cries as she stuffs her foot into Sigyn's stomach and kicks her back. "When the only gain I seek is twisting your thin neck! By the time I'm done, not even Hel will want you!"

Seeing the blood-lust in his eyes, Lorelei scuttles backwards, clutching at her side from where he'd stuck her. Slowly, Loki inches closer, savoring her panic. That lovely fear she wears. She wears it just for him.

It's been a while since anyone has looked at him that way. He'd begun to forget how much he'd missed it. The _fear_.

"You used me. Tricked me. ME! The God of tricks and deception and lies." Loki looms with a chill in his tone. "You know I'd almost be impressed. Almost. But then you just _had_ to go and bring Sigyn into this, didn't you? You had to _hurt_ her. And now? Well, I get to hurt _you_."

Backed against the wall, there's nowhere for Lorelei to run to.

"I told you, didn't I?" Loki holds his blade against her belly. "I told you I'd enjoy killing you."

And just like that, he runs her through, delighting in the sick way her eyes go wide at the exact moment his blade penetrates her flesh. But as pleasing as it looks, he knows it's all just an illusion. And he won't be fooled by her again. Loki turns around just in time to counter an attack, knocking the sword from out of the true Lorelei's grasp.

"You're a disgrace to your wings!" Amora cries as she butts the hilt of her sword into Sigyn's side.

"At least I HAVE wings!" Sigyn rebuttals with a good left hook to the jaw. "You don't deserve such a privilege."

"DESERVE!?" The word strikes a nerve. "If ANYONE deserves their rank among the Valkyrie it would be ME! I've worked HARD-"

"Don't speak to ME of hard work." Sigyn cuts her off, as does she cut Amora's left arm badly with a swift thrust of her weapon. "I may have been born with wings, but I had to EARN my place! I would sooner DIE than let a selfish bitch like you steal it out from under me."

"Fine by me!"

Lorelei may still be crafty, but she's getting weaker. The wound that Loki'd landed was hardly a kill shot, but the poison on his blade had been effective in slowing her down quite a bit, making her sloppy. Out of breath and out of time, Lorelei drops to her knees, laughing as the poison takes effect. Loki hovers over her, unsure what ever could be so amusing. Seems the old girl's out of tricks this time. Her final attempt at an attack had failed and now she's totally useless. But still, Lorelei laughs as if it were all one big joke to her. As is her life. Or what's left of it.

"And what, might I ask, is so funny?" Loki huffs.

Her levity is really cutting into the whole revenge vibe he's got going. How's he supposed to enjoy stabbing her to death if she's giggling at him?

"Oh, nothing." The Seductress taunts, blood foaming at her lips. "Just enjoying the show before I go..."

Unable to resist his curiosity, Loki turns his head to gain a better understanding of what Lorelei could possibly be going on about. If she thinks to get one last trick in... But what he sees leaves him utterly speechless. It makes him forget all about Lorelei or of his vengeance. If he weren't already as pale as a ghost, all the color would certainly drain from off his face.

Sigyn's in trouble.

Big time.

Weapon kicked aside, she lies on the floor on her back, hands in the air in defense as Amora stands over her. Sword held high in the air, she's ready to deal the final blow.

Spinning on his heels, gravel grits beneath his boots, quick on his feet and frantic to reach her in time. Because he _will_ reach her. He _will_ save her. There's no other option. Not one that's worth a damn to Loki.

Lorelei will have to wait. Not like she's going anywhere in the sorry state she's in. And even if she could escape, it wouldn't matter. Not when the only thing that _does_ matter is saving the only person that he loves in this whole messed up multiverse.

Amora brings her weapon down, but hesitates, if only for a moment. A moment which Loki uses to rush up from behind and stab that evil woman square in the back.

"Consider our deal voided." Loki growls as he severs her spine. "May you rot in Hel."

For too long now Loki has played the villain. The loser. And he's _tired_ of it. It's _his_ time now. His time to shine. To be the hero. To get the girl. To win. To make good on his own mistakes and long dark past. To free himself from all his madness. And he will. It all starts with one act. One single purpose. _This_.

For Love.

For Loyalty.

For Sigyn.

Loki slays the vile beast.

* * *

 _ **A/N: So sorry it's been so long! This time of year is all sorts of hectic! I'll try not to go so long again with my posts!**_

 _ **This chapter saw some fun comic book nods for all you fellow nerds out there! Such as Sigyn's helmet. I always thought it was way ugly in the comics, and totally unnecessary, so I've rehashed it and giving it a bigger purpose here. And Brun name drop! (extra points if you know who or WHAT she is. shhh... Don't say the word out loud though! If you don't want to get eaten alive...) Both will be very important very soon!**_

 ** _Happy Holidays and God Jul!_**


	65. Backstabber

**BACKSTABBER**

As a boy he'd been told time and time again to never play with daggers. A dagger is not a toy but a tool. Not even a weapon, really. For it has but one single purpose. And that's betrayal at its finest.

A dagger means treachery. Silent and discreet, tis best when used in moments that require stealth. Such as sneaking up from behind to stab another in the back. Just as Loki has done here today.

It doesn't make you any less a good soldier. The inability to see your prey's eyes as you fell them makes you no more or less a coward. In fact, to use a dagger well takes an exorbitant amount of skill. And patience. Something of which the average Aesir soldier has exceedingly less of these days. And yet, there is no honor in wielding a dagger. Just like there is no honor in stabbing someone in the back. Especially when that someone whom you've stabbed is either family or friend.

But then again, we always hurt the ones we love most, don't we? Especially when you're a backstabber like Loki.

For a moment he feels proud. As the blade enters Amora's spine, Loki allows himself to celebrate a job well done. He'd fought well and came out on top. Saved the girl, won the day and all that hero talk. He'd done it! He'd actually done it. Loki is as Loki does and this time Loki had actually done good.

But then the moment fades and that happy bit of pride begins to sink into his stomach. In the corner of his mind, Loki can still hear Lorelei laughing. Howling in delight as the illusion falls apart around him. And he's still the one left holding the dagger.

His fingers begin to tremble, even as his mind is trying to catch up. Tis as if his brain can't process fast enough what his eyes are seeing. Or mayhap he just doesn't want to believe it. He wants so bad for this to be just another illusion, but that sickness in his gut tells him otherwise. It assures him that it's real. It's very, very real.

And besides, the wings are a dead giveaway.

"Lock?"

Staring down at the tip of the blade protruding from her abdomen, Sigyn touches her wound hesitantly as if her mind can't believe it either. She paints her face with doubt, but the blood that stains her fingertips helps her to realize the truth. The Valkyrie drops her weapon. It hits the floor with a terrible clatter, ringing about the cavern like a bell.

 _Please..._

Loki finds himself frozen in place. And this time it has nothing to do with any spell.

 _Please don't hurt my..._

Sigyn's mother was right. Freya was right to keep him far from her daughter. It was for her own damned good. Because she knew. She knew all along what he was. And it has nothing to do with the color of his skin or of his Jotun ancestry. A snake is a snake. Through and through.

To be Loki is a curse. To him and everyone around him. Wherever he walks, darkness will forever follow in his wake. Darkness and death. Always.

Her wings shudder and collapse, as does her whole body collapse. Her legs give out and she crumbles to the floor in a heap of feathers and broken dreams.

And still Loki just stands there, too afraid to move. Clutching the bloody dagger like this is all some horrid dream and if he wishes hard enough he'll surely wake up soon. But soon never comes. And her blood is on his hands.

With a haughty grin, Amora rolls out from under Sigyn.

"Thank you for the assist." The Enchantress thanks Loki as she climbs to her feet. "I thought I was a goner there for a moment."

Loki was so preoccupied with Lorelei and dealing with her magic that he'd completely forgotten that he was not dealing with one, but _two_ witches.

Of course Amora wouldn't wage a clean and honest fight. She'd use every trick to her advantage, including the oldest trick in the book. Using an illusion, she'd swapped places with her sister, making it appear as if Sigyn were in trouble when really it was Amora who had lost the fight. Standing over her victorious, Sigyn paused for a moment. Being the better of her siblings, she'd demanded that her older sister yield. But that's not what Loki saw, and so he was forced to intervene.

As a husband, what was he to do? The decision was already made for him. There was no other choice. And Amora knew this. As a creature without any emotion, without any sympathy or regret, she knew exactly what Loki would do. And so she made the choice for him, using his own love against him to her advantage.

The Enchantress smoothes out the wrinkles in her outfit and reclaims her sword from off the ground.

"Tis not an easy thing to bring low a Valkyrie." She compliments. "But leave it to you, you've done all the hard work for me."

Something snaps inside Loki. Some baser instinct, primitive and cold. Colder than anything he's ever felt before.

"That's what? Two now? _Three_ if we're lucky..." Amora eyes her other sister, the one currently out of the fight and watching from the sidelines. Propped against the wall, Lorelei holds her wound tight to keep from bleeding out. "They're going to have to start calling you Loki, the Valkyrie Killer!"

The sensation is familiar. Much like that time with the Trolls, but so much more powerful. Focused. Loki's eyes begin to turn, becoming a deep crimson. As does his skin begin to turn, freezing over into an icy blue.

"You know, I was just planning on killing you once all of this was over, but I think I might have use of you and your... talents, yet!"

The temperature in the room drops to near freezing in a matter of seconds. So cold that everything turns white and ices over. Even the bodies of the dead palace guards that he had murdered earlier quickly become one solid mass of ice.

"I suppose that I should thank you." The Enchantress carries on. "Honestly, from the bottom of my heart, you have my deepest gratitude. None of this would have been made possible without you."

The doorway freezes over, making the room a giant icebox. An icy tomb trapping everyone inside.

"But then again I suppose you shouldn't get all the credit. I mean, tis not like you could help it. Your kind are just so... _predictable_." She laughs, speaking not only of his dim Jotun heritage, but of all men, in particular. "Tis sad, really, how easy you were to manipulate. Almost takes all the fun out of it."

Lorelei is quick to get the picture. As soon as the Seductress could see her own breath, she had stopped her laughing. Demented as she may be, even she's wise enough to know when a joke has gone too far. Just as it's a good idea to stop poking the bear. Or the big, scary Frost Giant, in this case.

"I only wish that I could bring the wings with me." Amora provokes, acknowledging the body of the Valkyrie lying motionless on the floor. "They'd have made for such a lovely conversation piece. Right above the archway leading into Valhalla. A symbol to any who oppose me... For when I'm in charge, of course."

The frost spreads throughout his body both inside and out, filling his veins with a fuel more powerful than hate. Like two fiery coals burning in the cold wintry dead of night, Loki's eyes glow a most terrifying red. But that's not even the scariest bit. It has nothing to do with whatever he says or does, or even how completely frightful he may look, but the complete and total lack thereof. The absence of any action or emotion. That eerie calm that has come over him. So dark and seething with quiet rage as the cold energy builds within him.

"I had asked you once... Do you remember when you sought me out? That day in the woods when you begged to make bargain. I had asked if she was worth it then." Amora inquires. "And do you remember your answer?"

With an icy stare, Loki glares daggers at the Enchantress as she gloats.

"Tell me, Loki... Do you still believe it? After everything... All the lies and deception and death..." She grins. "Was it worth it?"

His answer comes in the form of an arctic blast of freezing ice. All at once, Loki finally lets loose, releasing a blizzard of howling snow and screaming winds. Frigid enough to chill even the most cold-hearted to the bone. Luckily for Amora, she evades his icy reach, summoning a portal to whisk her away safely.

"WAIT!" Lorelei cries frantically, calling attention to her location, the dark recess of the cave in which she'd hidden herself away from Loki's wrath. "Wait for me!"

Crawling on her hands and knees to avert the icy storm, the Seductress tries to reach Amora, her only means of escape. The frigid air stings at her exposed skin. The ice crystals in the air act as sharp little needles, whipping about and cutting into her flesh.

Like a worm on her belly, Lorelei makes for a pitiful sight. As are her pleas just as sad and pathetic. And yet somehow, she manages, making it right to the edge of the portal. She breathes her relief as she attempts to climb her way inside.

"Please... Sister..." She reaches her hand for help.

Bloodied and broken, Lorelei begs Amora for admittance but is met with resistance in the form of a boot. The Enchantress places her foot on Lorelei's shoulder, keeping her sister low to the ground. Beneath her.

"Awww... You didn't think you actually meant something to me, did you?" Amora tuts. "You were only ever a means to an end, really. A stepping stone to power."

"But... But you PROMISED me..."

"That we'd be a team? A family? Just you and me, forever and ever until the end of time?" Amora laughs. "Oh, Lorelei... You're really such a child. Still so desperate to belong to someone. _Anyone_."

She only ever wanted to be loved.

With the heel of her boot, Amora kicks Lorelei back from the portal, leaving her behind.

"Sorry, sister, but you know the rules." The Enchantress reminds. "Only the _strong_ survive."

It was always bound to end like this. One way or another. Sooner or later. If Amora wanted to rule unopposed, she would have had to be rid of her sisters. Both of them.

With lost eyes, Lorelei watch as the portal closes. That last self-important smirk on Amora's lips as her sister leaves her to her fate. Alone. She turns to find the Jotun Loki glaring back at her and suddenly she wonders the same question. Was it worth it? In the end, was _any_ of this worth it?

"I only wanted..." She begins, hugging her arms around her own shoulders. Not for warmth, but for comfort. "We could have been so happy."

A strange sensation overcomes her. Lorelei closes her eyes as the warm, wet tears stream gently down her face.

"Oh but we _are_ happy. Can't you see?" Loki growls in a voice more animal than man. "Tis just as you said. You've allowed me to be who I _really_ am. Showed me my _true_ potential. All that darkness that I've kept locked away inside. The _monster_. You've set me _free_."

Lorelei slowly backs herself against the wall as Loki comes in close. He gently rubs his thumb against her cheek, smearing red across her face from all the tiny cuts she'd sustained from his ice storm.

"Here..." Loki whispers to her lips. "Let me show you."

Her breath escapes her in a cold puff of air as he mashes his blackened Jotun lips against hers. Her eyes go wide in the sudden shock of freezing cold, and in that moment Lorelei realizes something. A final thought as her mind numbs and freezes over. Like salt, she thinks as she embraces the darkness, the monster in which she'd helped create. Her tears do taste like salt.

A deep freeze spreads all throughout her body, making her skin begin to crack and her bones become as brittle as porcelain. Much like her mother, her tears turn to a shimmering gold, becoming entrapped in the layer of ice crusted all across her stone cold flesh.

Loki gently grabs at the nape of his once lover's neck as he drains her of her warmth, applying just the right amount of pressure. Enough to hear her skull begin to crack. A most satisfying feeling. In fact, he needn't even try that hard, at all. Her body begins to give way and shatters under the weight of his fingertips, spilling all around his feet in a glittering heap of frozen chunks of meat. They shine like so many rubies, making for such a lovely sight.

And then he's all alone again. Alone with nothing but his dark and empty thoughts. Staring at all the broken pieces of what was once his life spread out across the floor.


	66. A Lovely Story

**A LOVELY STORY**

In her final words, Lorelei had mentioned that she'd only ever wanted to be happy, and the same could be said of Loki. He wanted all those things, too. Happiness. A family. Love. He'd even allowed himself to dream. To envision a life where he'd be free of the crown and of his burdens. To build a home. A simpler life. To be a good man and a better father. Better than either of his had ever been to him. But then Lorelei's dream had _killed_ his dream. So he killed her. And now what's left for him?

The torrent calms to a gentle flurry as Loki makes his way to Sigyn. Lying in the virgin snow, she looks so peaceful. So beautiful. Even now in death.

Loki falls to his knees and lays down in the powdery white beside her, taking her cold body into his arms one last and final time. That's when he allows himself to grieve, to finally let it all out. Albeit just a tad bit prematurely.

Sitting himself upright with a start, Loki had sworn he'd heard her breathing. Shallow, but he knows for certain it was there. Turning Sigyn over so that he can see her face, Loki confirms that his mind isn't playing tricks on him. At least not _this_ time. She is alive. But only barely.

Dazed, her pale eyes open weakly, making Loki so excited that he nearly jumps out of his skin. And speaking of skin... Realizing he still wears the hue of his rotten Jotun ancestry, Loki wills himself to change back into a more pleasing tone, but Sigyn stops him. Mustering every last bit of strength she's got left, the wounded Valkyrie lifts her hand to cup his face.

"Please... don't." She forces herself to speak. "Just this once... I wish to look upon the face... of my husband."

"I..."

He wants to tell her that he's hideous, but stops himself. How can he explain to the woman that he loves that he doesn't wish for her to see him this way. Especially now. After all the hurting and the pain that he has caused her. He's every bit the monster that he appears.

"Please?"

But still she asks and how can he say no? So Loki does this for her. Just this once. Eyes low as he returns his skin to Jotnar blue.

"Ahh..." Sigyn smiles and the whole room seems to melt in her warmth. "There it is."

"There _what_ is?" He wonders, placing his hand gently upon hers.

"The truth." She says, softly stroking his cheek.

This is Loki. The true and honest Loki. Beneath any illusions or the lies that he wears. Beneath the mischief and trickery and deception. The sly grin and dry humor. _This_ is him. The truth. Not some monster or dark creature as Lorelei had portrayed him. Or as he's portrayed himself. But just a sad little child so longing to be accepted. To be loved. And she does. Despite his frightful appearance, Sigyn looks at him with such love in her eyes.

"You're so beautiful." She tells him and he immediately breaks down into tears, burying his face in her hand.

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, Sigyn." Loki begs for her forgiveness. "I never... I never meant for this. For _any_ of this. I should have told you but I... I was just so scared that you'd..."

Sigyn lifts his head to look him in the eye. Those blood red eyes that stare back at her so sad and hopelessly.

"I know. I know... Tis okay."

The truth is they've both kept their fair share of secrets from one another. His may have been a whole lot worse, but that doesn't make it any better, and Sigyn understands that. She also understands that it doesn't matter. In the end, _none_ of it matters. Not Amora or Lorelei or anything else. Because she forgives him. No matter the explanation or excuse, she will _always_ forgive him. Call it loyalty or just plain stupidity or whatever you like. She'll always love him. Her Lock.

Soft as a feather, Sigyn traces her fingers along the thinly raised markings all along his skin, paying extra special attention to the ridges across his forehead. His crown. A distinction of royalty and what distinguishes him from any other Jotnar. And yet that's not at all what makes Loki so unique. Not to Sigyn. What makes him so special to her is far more than skin deep.

"So... So beautiful..." Sigyn repeats, her voice becoming so very far away. "Like Nótt..."

Fresh tears follow the path along one of the lines leading down Loki's cheek. No one has ever touched him this way. Not only on the surface, his cobalt blue flesh, but in his heart. His soul. There have been so many times when he couldn't even bare to look himself in the mirror, especially not when in _this_ skin. And yet, not only can she stomach the sight of him, but Sigyn accepts him for who he is. Who he _really_ is inside.

But then again, Loki supposes, that's always been Sigyn. Even when they were little, way back then, she'd always been able to see him in a way that no one else could and notice him when no one else did. She just had that sort of knack. Capable of seeing the beauty in things that others would often take for granted. The mundane or the ugly. Like him. And even when they called her a freak, he too could see Sigyn for her true beauty. That kind heart and kindred spirit. He knew it then, as has he always known. That she was special. Precious, even. Too precious to him to ever lose. Never again.

Her eyes grow heavy and Loki begins to panic, frantically trying to pick her body up off the ground but the dead weight of her wings makes it an impossible task. Her body slumps back down into his lap.

"Nay! Nay! Nay!" He shakes her awake, but she's so slick with blood that his hands just keep slipping. "Stay with me, Sigyn! _Please_... Don't leave me!"

Eyelids fluttering, Sigyn begins to come around.

"So... so cold..." She shivers.

Loki tears the cape from off his shoulders and lays it across her like a blanket.

"It's alright. Everything's going to be alright." He assures, mayhap to himself. "I'm going to build a fire. Okay? Warm you up in no time, yeah?"

And so with his magic, Loki lights a small fire close by, using what little he's got on him, mostly his tunic, literally the clothes from off his back for kindling. Not like he needs it. The cold doesn't bother him one bit.

"I don't want a funeral, Loki." Sigyn says slow, watching as the orange embers start to grow.

"What are you talking about? Funerals..." Loki balks. He gathers her up, pretending as if his cold body can warm her. "Don't speak like that, Sigyn. You're going to be fine."

But she won't let the subject die.

"Would you promise me, Loki?" Sigyn asks. "No funeral. Please?"

"Hey... Hey! Look at me!" Loki focuses her attention on him. "You'll be _fine_. Understand? You're going to be alright. This is merely a flesh wound." He assures her with a smile. "You're still as beautiful as ever, Sunshine. Well... We _mayyy_ want to shy away from any dresses with a low back. I mean, the scarring is going to be quite displeasing to look at, really. In fact, we'd be smart to stay clear of any bathing attire, too. Along with making love with the candles snuffed and curtains drawn. But still... Beautiful as ever!"

Always a Trickster, Loki makes light with a joke to liven the mood. Despite his tears, he grins against Sigyn's cheek, eliciting a small laugh. The sweetest sound ever.

"Liar..." She manages a giggle.

"I'm serious! I'm getting you out of here. I just need to -"

"Please..." Sigyn stops him. She knows as well as Loki that what he says is but a beautiful lie. She's not leaving this room. Not alive. "Promise me."

The color drains from his face, the blue returning to his typical pallor. So does his smile leave him.

"I promise." Loki swears somberly.

At this, her body relaxes into his arms.

"Thank you."

And so they sit together in the frozen little room surrounded by corpses, her body growing ever colder by the second and there's nothing he can do about it. He can offer her no more warmth, only his company in these final moments. A small comfort considering she should be well-past dead already. But that's his wife. His Sigyn. Stubborn as always until the very end.

"Tell me a story?" Sigyn smiles through the blood on her lips.

From behind his tears, Loki blurts out a laugh. Even in the face of death, some things never change.

"Seriously?" He forces a chuckle.

Though he can tell she's in great pain, Sigyn smiles and nods her head. Mayhap a story would be best. Something to take her mind off her suffering.

"But there's no story to tell." He begins his tale, holding onto Sigyn tight. "We _are_ going to get out of here. I promise you that much..."

Loki places his hands at her front and back, both the entrance and exit points from where he'd impaled her, and using his magic, does his best to cauterize the wounds. Or at the very least, keep her from bleeding out any further.

"We leave this cave and find you aid. Fix you up as right as rain."

He speaks but his mind is elsewhere, trying to conjure up a plan. Something. Anything.

"Next we go fetch Odin." Loki continues. "And then we bring the fight to Amora. Just as planned."

It would be a miracle if Sigyn weren't paralyzed after severing her spine. So walking's out of the question. The same could be said about carrying her. She's just too damned heavy. Mayhap if he were to cut off her wings...

"After... Afterwards, we settle down." He says. "You and I, we find a nice, peaceful plot of land. Some backwater moon where nothing and no one could ever find us."

But then again, if he were to remove her of her wings, there's no way she'd be able to handle the further blood loss. Which she's already lost a near fatal amount and is continuing to do so at an alarming rate. And not only that, but moving her at all would only speed up the inevitable.

"We have two boys. Sons..."

Maybe if he lowers her body temperature just enough, he can preserve her until... until he can think of something better.

"Vali. Named for your father, Ivaldi. And..." Thinking of the life, the sons, he'll never have, Loki finds himself becoming choked up. "And little Narvi, after your favorite story. The father of Nótt. The creator of Night."

Any way he looks at it, this is a no win situation.

"You've put some thought into this." Sigyn grins. Teasing him, even in her weakened state. "I thought you didn't want for children."

"I never said that." Loki teases right back.

"Liar!" Again, she laughs.

Of course he's thought about this. He's thought about it a lot. And not only as of late, but further back. Way back before he'd even learned of who and what he was. Before he'd lost the title of Odinson. When he was nothing more than a wee-little child who had thought himself a man. Who still had dreams of earning the throne and hopes of Sigyn sitting right there beside him, not only as his wife but as his queen. Back when he'd bet Thor for the right to her hand. When he'd stolen that fateful kiss. He'd thought of it then and every day after. The life that he would have gladly given Sigyn. If only she came back.

" _Shhh_..." Loki grins, pinching at her side as he has done so many times before. "Don't interrupt!"

Joking around like this makes him feel like old times. Like they're children again. Up inside their tower where the worlds could never harm them. For a second it even lets him forget all about their current situation. The fact that she's dying. And no story could ever change that. No matter how happy the ending.

"Anyway... We live out the rest of our centuries together. Happy and free. Without Valhalla or Asgard or Midgard or Jotunheim or _any_ damned realm to try and control us." Loki wraps up his tale. "We live on _our_ terms and by our own rules. We've no one to answer to but ourselves. _Aaaaand_ occasionally Thor, I suppose. Though I'm sure it can't be helped. He'll likely want to see his nephews from time to time, and all. And it would be nice to get away every now and again and have some alone time, you and me. Again, with the lights off, of course."

"You're an arsehole!" Sigyn chuckles, even though the action is exhausting for her.

"Aye. I'm an arsehole. I'm a liar. And I love you." The Trickster croons.

He wishes they could go back. Back to when they were children. Or even older. To when he saw her in the garden. Or even at that party. The night they'd spent sitting side by side at the edge of Asgard's shore. Loki wishes he could relive that night, the first time they'd made love. Or mayhap even their first fight. Hel... He'd even take her hating him. Anything rather than _this_. At least when she hated him there was still something to look forward to. There was still hope to make things right. Now he can only hope to make this _stop_. To slow down time if going back is not an option.

"That was... That was such a lovely story, Lock." Sigyn smiles softly, closing her eyes. "I think... I would have liked that..."

"But it isn't a story, Sigyn. Tis the truth." Loki smiles too, turning his head to look at her. "Every last word."

The Liesmith would gladly take a punch to the face right about now. He'd even give her a free shot. Let Sigyn wail on him until her knuckles were bloody and his face were a total mess. He'd also let her scream at him. Shout horrible things to his face until her voice were hoarse and his spirit broken. Anything would be better than having to watch as the woman that he loves, that strong spirit that he's known all his life, his _friend_ , his _only_ friend, slowly slips away.

"Hey... Do you remember when we were little? That summer when you fell ill with the flu?" Loki begins softly, snuggling her close. "You remember how I would read to you then? Mother said if I didn't wish to get myself sick, that I should keep far from your chamber. But I didn't listen. Not because I was being a brat, though in all honesty I suppose I _was_ , but because... well... because I didn't _care_ if I got sick. Nothing was going to keep me from being with you."

He sweetly nuzzles his nose into her hair.

"You remember how I climbed right into bed with you? Beneath the covers, even. I had the maids bring me books, _stacks_ of books, and never once did I stop reading. Not even after I, too, had fallen ill." Loki continues. "We spent the whole week in that bed, fever and all, the both of us. Together. And when you were feeling better and I was still stricken, you then took the book from me and said... Do you remember? You said "now it's my turn". And you laid your head on my chest and read to me."

Things were so much simpler then. A bit of chicken soup and everything would be as right as rain again. But that's what it's like when you're a child. Any of life's problems, no matter how severe, could be fixed with a few kind words and a kiss on the forehead. But then as most children do, Loki had to grow up. He had to learn the hard way just how cruel life could actually be. And from that day forward, nothing was ever that easy. Not ever again.

"Do you remember, Sigyn?" Loki asks fondly. "Sigyn?"

But Sigyn doesn't answer.

"S-Sunshine...?"


	67. An Easy Way To Numb The Pain

**AN EASY WAY TO NUMB THE PAIN**

Slowly, as if in a trance, Loki makes his way back into town. One foot after the other. After the other...

He may as well be sleepwalking, the way he rambles across the open field. An empty shell emerging from the vast wilderness. Alone.

"Loki..."

Thor utters his name, but the Mischief God pays him no mind, or perhaps he cannot hear him from deep within the depths of his daze.

"Loki?"

He calls out again as his brother grows nearer, but still there's no response. It's as if Thor doesn't exist. Not even in the slightest. Nor does this town. Or what's left of it.

Finding his way to the bar, Loki pulls out a barstool, the only one still standing. Everything else has been broken or shattered, the whole establishment having been burnt to the ground, along with the rest of the village. Not that Loki even notices. Or cares. Instead, he finds himself a bottle, one of the last few remaining, and proceeds to pour himself a drink.

The Liesmith needn't even ask, this whole damned town reeks of Amora's handiwork. The homes have all been torched, the inhabitants forced into the cold. Asgardian soldiers walk around aimlessly, staring at the destruction that they've caused, but unsure how it is they'd even come to have caused it. Confused, they shuffle about the charred fields, eyeing the slain livestock and wonder to themselves how they'd even gotten here in the first place.

Now that Lorelei is gone, her spell over them has been defeated, leaving these poor, wandering soldiers far from home and with hardly any memory of the mayhem which they'd wrought by the ends of their own swords. Like a bad dream, there's only bits and pieces. But unlike any bad dream, the body count is _real_. Loki only wishes that he too could claim no memory of his crime. He envies their ignorance as he slams back another drink.

One would call it lucky that Thor and his crew were here to lend a helping hand, and hammer, but Loki knows better. It's _because_ of them that Amora had set her sights on this sleepy little village. That if they hadn't happened to show up, then these nice people who were kind enough to open up their homes to them wouldn't be in this awful situation. Sure, things could have been worse. A _whole_ lot worse. Unlike Sigyn's brothers, these townsfolk are lucky to have made it out with their lives, but that doesn't make it any better. Or the guilt any more bearable.

"Loki!" This time Thor shouts, marching his way through the rubble to his irksome younger brother. "Just where the HEL..."

Once up close, Thor suddenly stops himself. From here, he can see the vacant expression on Loki's face. That hundred yard stare as he gazes blankly at what once was a wall, but no more.

"Where's Sigyn?" Instead, Thor asks, noticing the blood on Loki's trembling hands.

But there's nothing.

"Where is she?"

Becoming worried, he places his hand atop Loki's, forcing him to rest his cup down on the bar counter. This seems to at least shake his attention.

"You know... There's this legend... Among barkeepers." Loki begins, still staring off into nowhere. "That Mephisto, the Devil, fancies himself a drink every now and again." The Wordsmith licks his cracked, parched lips. "And should the barkeep serve him well, that he'd be rewarded beyond imagining. But if he fails..."

Loki picks back up his drink and draws it to his lips. Impatient with his brother's story, Thor slaps the cup away.

"I'll only ask this one last time!" The Thunder God bellows. "WHERE IS SIGYN?!"

"I KILLED HER!" Loki shouts in return, finally matching Thor's gaze. "I killed her AND my child. HAPPY?"

And that's when Thor notices just how red his eyes are. Not bloodshot, though the skin around his eyes is indeed reddened and swollen from crying, but his eyes are _red_ -red. Crimson. As in, Jotun red.

Having heard the outburst, Sif stands abruptly, ready for combat. Both she and Hogun are just within earshot, close by as they tend to the wounded villagers. With the slightest wave of his hand, Thor motions for the Lady to stand down. An order which she refuses. Though her respect for the son of Odin may speak volumes, his judgement has always been clouded when dealing with his snake-of-a-brother Loki. A warning that despite all her best efforts have always fallen on deaf ears. And now look what's happened. Once again, Loki's treachery has gone too far. And with innocent lives to have been caught in the balance. Only this time, it's personal.

So as Sif grabs her great weapon from out of its scabbard, she swears upon Sigyn's eternal soul, ' _no more_ '. If Thor hasn't the spine to do what must be done of this filth, then she'll happily do the job for him. That is until the Grim places a heavy hand on her shoulder, urging her to please lay down her arms. Tensions are high enough already and there's been plenty enough bloodshed for one day. And although the request doesn't sit well with the Lady, she ultimately though grudgingly accepts. With a loud growl, Sif returns her weapon and storms off, hiding her tears as she passes an equally shocked and heartbroken Fandral and Volstagg, each.

Once the altercation has been disarmed, Loki returns his attention to the bar. Extending his arm, he uses his magic to call back to his hand the glass which Thor had smacked clear across the room. Eyes forward, the Liesmith then sets to pouring himself a new drink.

There's a part of Loki that wishes Thor hadn't intervened, that he would have let Sif go after him, though he's not quite sure how he would have ultimately reacted.

Something dark inside whispers for blood. That if given the chance, Loki would have flat out _killed_ her. Just punched and punched away with his fists until they were as good and bloody as her face. He just wants to hit something, _anything_ , to make the hurting go away. Or at the very least, until Sif were to feel a pain as great as the deep cut inside his heart. A wound that Loki knows can never heal, no matter how much blood he were to bathe in. The rivers could swell with the blood of his enemies and still his soul would never know peace. Not ever again.

And yet something else tells him, some other voice deep inside, that if he were to be truly honest with himself, tis likely he wouldn't have done anything at all. That if Sif had gotten the chance, Loki would have just sat on this barstool and not done a godsdamned thing to stop her. He's given up. Resigned himself to die. Without Sigyn, Loki's lost the will the live. And that should be a terrifying thought, but instead he feels _nothing_. Nothing but the great void where his heart used to be. Now cold and black and empty.

Loki swigs back his drink, hissing as the burning elixir sloshes down the back of his throat. The only drowning he'll be doing this day will not be in the blood of his enemies but in a bottle. An easy way to numb the pain, and if he's lucky, to die. Because that's what he _really_ wants, after all. He _wants_ to die. To join her in death. And to be punished for his sins.

"Loki..."

Thor takes a seat beside him, balancing his weight on a stool with only two legs. He grabs the bottle from out of Loki's hands, earning himself an icy glare. But instead of smashing it or throwing it away, surprisingly, the Odinson takes a long swig for himself.

"Tell me." He says low, wiping his bristly beard with the back of his hand. "Tell me _everything_."

"And if I lie?" Loki stares at his empty cup.

But Thor says nothing, just pours his brother another drink.

So Loki tells him. _Everything_. Though he's not even sure why. He just keeps talking and Thor continues to refresh his drink every time his cup runs low. And when they've emptied the bottle, they seek out another and start all over again.

He doesn't even lie. As Loki explains his story in great detail, he doesn't even go to the trouble of embellishing the truth, because why bother? Whose arse is he trying to save at this point? Certainly not his own. And what does he care if Thor hates him by the time he finishes his tale? What difference would it make? He already hates himself, anyway. As does Sif and quite literally everyone he's ever known or met, really. So what's one more log thrown onto the pile? The great burning pyre lain at his feet.

And that's just what he expects, really, for Thor to despise him once he's done talking. Which he's ready for. Once good and drunk and feeling no pain, Loki waits for the dull thud of a hammer upside the head, but what he wasn't expecting were the snug feel of two meaty arms, instead. Taking Loki into his arms, Thor hugs him. And hugs him. And doesn't let go.

At first, Loki's initial instinct is to push his brother off him. Telling himself that he doesn't _want_ a shoulder to cry on. He doesn't want Thor's sympathy _or_ his comfort. That he doesn't _deserve_ it. What he does deserve is all the hurt that he is feeling deep inside. He _deserves_ the hate. But despite any struggling, Thor holds onto Loki tight and refuses to let up.

"Tis okay..." Thor lulls his upset younger brother. "Tis okay..."

So Loki gives in.

Burying his face in his brother's cape, Loki lets it all out, as does Thor, and together they grieve for their fallen friend.


	68. Say Goodbye

**SAY GOODBYE**

The Warriors Three were none at all happy to have been left behind, but Thor had made himself clear. This is a _private_ matter, which means _family_ only. And although they each had gotten to know Sigyn on a personal level over the brief period of time they had all spent together, and have each earned their right to mourn her passing, their chance to pay their respects would come in time. For now, this was something that both he and his brother needed to do _._ Alone. Another point which did not make the Lady Sif at all happy. No big surprise there. Thor could only hope as she turned a cold shoulder, that she would come around and forgive him in her own due time. Especially with how close the pair have become as of late.

And speaking of close...

Having grown somewhat fond of the somewhat reformed God of Mischief, tis little surprise that Volstagg took the news the hardest. Although Sif's grief may be greater, the big, tender heart chose to express his hurting in a more _voluminous_ approach, taking the stunted son of Laufey up into his arms and squeezing onto him tight. Arms hanging at his side, the Liesmith knew not how to return the expression, acting as if he didn't care for the overgrown teddy bear _or_ his hug, but secretly finding such comfort in it. Maybe even enjoying the affection. If only just a little.

But despite all their grievances, none could argue that the Warriors are best needed _here_. These villagers need their aid more than Thor ever could. Not only to patch up their wounded, but to help rebuild their homes and their lives after the destruction the Enchantress had caused. Everyone could at least agree on that much.

So with heavy hearts, they go their separate ways. With promises of a safe return, shall they meet again under happier circumstances. Until then, Thor has somewhere else he needs to be.

To say goodbye to an old friend.

Not a word is spoken as Thor follows his brother, Loki, through the forest, though he can tell they're getting close by the way the winds shift. There's a chill that carries itself upon the air. Frozen grass crunches loud beneath his feet. And that _smell_... That horrible stench of death is only getting nearer. All he need do is follow his nose to find where it is they are heading.

A short excursion later and sure enough, Loki leads him to the mouth of a cave where just out front, stationed at the entrance, they're greeted by the partially thawed remains of two palace soldiers, now the eternal guardians of Sigyn's final resting place. A morbid sight to help ward off any potential visitors, Thor and Loki excluded.

"In here."

Thor should be growing leery, following his Trickster brother so trustingly. But he doesn't. Not this time. Not when Sigyn's concerned. Without a second thought, Loki leads him and he follows.

Once littered with bones, but now covered in ice, through the ancient catacombs the brothers wander until finally they come upon their destination. A bright room at the end of the tunnel. The Liesmith lingers outside the open chamber for a bit, as if afraid to enter through.

"What is it?" Thor asks him, concerned.

Sigyn had once mentioned old ghosts. That returning to the palace had stirred up long forgotten memories, wounds still left unhealed within her heart. Loki understands the feeling, however his wounds are still so fresh. And the place that he's returning to is not some distant memory, but instead the scene of a crime. _His_ crime. His most unforgivable act ever.

"You don't have to go in there." Speaking softly, Thor lends his hand to Loki's shoulder, making the Liesmith jump just ever so slightly as if stirred from his thoughts. "You can wait out here while I pay my respects."

Though he's no stranger to loss, Thor can't possibly fathom what his brother must be going through. Difficult doesn't even begin to describe what it must be like coming back to this place. This one little room, hardly even a dot on the map of the universe, where his whole entire world ceased to be. But Loki shakes his head and proceeds forward, with Thor following into Sigyn's icy tomb.

Pulling his cape around his shoulders for warmth, the Odinson finds himself in awe of the sheer beauty of the cavern. Tis so... _white_. Hardly at all the bloody massacre that Loki had described. Which is exactly what he was expecting. A bloody massacre. But then again, it's all too obvious how much work his brother had put into crafting the perfect shrine to his late wife. Tis absolutely stunning.

Walls of ice shine like silver, beautiful and cold. And the floor, a lush carpet of snow. Everything here is so peaceful. So perfect. A far cry from the scene which he'd found after their mother's passing. That chaos of broken furniture and torn flesh. He was a broken man, then. But this? This attention to detail. This level of devotion. This is something else entirely, though Thor is hardly sure exactly what. But whatever it is, it _isn't_ healthy. This is the work of a man possessed.

The God of Storms makes his way to the center where Sigyn's body lay resting and lifts the green cape which conceals her.

She's been painstakingly cleaned of any blood and displayed in typical funeral fashion. Lain straight on her back with her arms folded below the breast. Hands placed neatly one on top of the next, atop her sword. Her weapon to carry with her unto the next life. Even her wings have been handled with care, delicately unfolded and fanned outward. And atop her head sits a crown of gold. A helmet that Thor immediately recognizes, if only from stories told to him by his father.

"You idiot." Thor kneels down beside her, butting his forehead against the cool metal of her helmet. "If only you'd just told me, I wouldn't have been so angry. But that's what you wanted, didn't you? You _wanted_ to push my buttons." With a playful grin, the son of Odin adds, "Annoying little sister..."

Balls of fire flicker all about the cavern. Not candles, but little orbs of burning magic, eternal and everlasting. Their light refracts off the crystalline walls, creating lovely rays of shimmering color all around.

Quietly, Thor sits by her side. For how long? He's not even sure. Just sits and stares at the small, sweet smile which, as if frozen in time, permanently adorns her snow-white face, remembering the days of long since past.

They used to be such happy children, he and Loki, with a happy childhood, and a happy home. Sure, his brother was a mischievous little pest, no one's perfect, but he was still his _brother_. At the very core, he was still his friend. And then the world turned sideways and everything changed. Friends became enemies and family turned bitter. But then Sigyn returned and she helped the world make sense again. For one shining moment, Thor had his brother back, and he swears to her that he will not lose sight of him again. That for all her progress, he won't let the Trickster fall back into his wicked ways. Upon her grave, Thor makes to her this promise. She can rest well in knowing that in this life, he will take care of his little brother as best he can, until the day when they can all be together again.

Getting up from the floor, Thor kisses her forehead with a sad smile.

"Goodbye, Lillesøs." He says with tears in his eyes. "Until we meet again."

Wiping the snow from his slacks, Thor returns to Loki hanging in the open doorway, his body leaning only halfway into the room.

"Come." Thor offers. "Let's gather some wood and I will help you build an alter."

"No funeral." Loki declines, repeating Sigyn's last request.

"But she must have a funeral, brother." Thor argues. "Tis tradition."

Staring down at the ground, Loki shakes his head 'nay'.

"It would be a great dishonor to her memory, otherwise." Thor tries to reason.

And not only that, but her soul will not rest. She will never find peace. Left to wander with all the other lost souls, or so the legends go.

But Loki won't be reasoned with. He's made up his mind and that's all there is to it. As per his nature, he refuses to yield.

"No pyre. No grave. No funeral. No matter what." The Son of Laufey stands his ground. "I made her a promise, brother, and I won't break this one."

"Loki! She can't stay here!" Thor disputes, despite Loki's lack of reason. "So, _what_ then? You're just going to _leave_ her here in this... this mausoleum _forever_?"

"Nay... Not forever."

Just long enough.

Finally, Loki gains the courage to step further inside the room. Eyes forward, he walks right past Thor and straight on toward Sigyn.

"You've made your peace, now you can leave." Loki turns the subject. "I'll be right behind you. I just... need to say goodbye. If that's alright."

Defeated, Thor sighs, but ultimately relents to Loki's wishes. With a nod, he ducks back inside the darkened tunnel, leaving Loki to his farewells.

The Liesmith sits down in the snow beside Sigyn, leaning in to gently stroke her long, blonde hair. He carefully plucks the few stray snowflakes to have settled in her silvery strands.

"I'll be going now." He speaks to her softly, as if she were still here. "But I promise to return to you as soon as I am able."

Leaning in further, Loki kisses her cold lips softly.

"I will always return to you, Sunshine." He gives her hand a little squeeze, his fingers lingering over the golden band still worn around her ring finger. "I love you. Forever.

And so, he leaves her, sealing off the room behind him with a thick, impenetrable wall of ice before making his way back outside into the land of the living. As Loki exits the tunnels, he finds his brother in the bright sunlight awaiting his return with a fistful of snow.

As if expecting Thor to pelt him with the snowball, Loki raises his hands expectedly. A reflex from all the years of growing up the baby brother. Even though the elder Odinson may not stake claim to the title of Mischief, reserved only to Loki, he was never far from becoming the God of noogies or wedgies or that of all the other general discomforts associated with what Thor liked to affectionately refer to as brotherly love.

Thor groans and rolls his eyes. Always so dramatic, his brother.

"Come here and sit your arse down." The son of Odin sighs.

With a groan of his own, Loki obliges. Like he's got anything better to do. Other than seek out another pub and get himself shite-faced, of course. So he takes a seat on the big rock facing his brother, where Thor immediately grabs both of his hands and sets to scrubbing them clean.

Loki had put so much effort into preparing Sigyn's body and the room in such a pristine, immaculate way, but had neglected to care for himself even in the slightest. Her blood still lingers on his hands, caked beneath his fingernails and dried into all the little cracks atop his skin. Dirt and tears stain his face, as well as smudges of what Thor can only distinguish as gold. His hair's a godsawful mess. Eyes still a frightful red. And he's hardly even dressed properly. Loki's wearing his boots and pants, sure, but his leather tunic is completely missing. With his cape currently used as Sigyn's death shroud, that leaves nothing up top but a thin, black undershirt, which that too is completely covered in blood. His appearance is more than frightful, it's concerning.

Now granted, he'd just lost his entire family, and under the most horrible of circumstances, no less. Loki's a man who's lost _everything_. Still, it's hard for Thor to see his brother this way. So completely come undone. So broken. And there's little he can do to help him, aside from washing her blood from off his hands. And helping him to exact his vengeance.

"We need father." Thor says in a clear, steady voice. "No more hopping from realm to realm. No more excuses. You take me to Odin. And you take me to Odin NOW."

Head hung low, Loki watches as Sigyn's blood mixes with the snow-water, rinsing down his arms to become one with the ground below him. Watching as she absorbs into nothing. Nothing but a smear of red upon a blade of grass.

 _Can you? Can you really wipe out that much red?_

Everything has a price. Fame. Wealth. Money. Power. Even Magic. And Sigyn paid that price for Loki. For everything he'd gained and done, she paid it with her blood.

"You take me to Odin and I'll help you defeat Amora." Thor entices. "Whatever you need of me to help you heal. To avenge Sigyn. _Anything_. Just name it. I'm here for you, brother. But first, we need to find father."

They say that time heals all wounds, but this wound is going to take a lot of time. Time that they don't have. If they want to stop Amora, they need to do so _now_. Strike while the iron's still hot. Or at least while there's still a universe left that's worth saving. Before any other innocents get caught up in her destructive quest for glory.

"Why are you doing this?" Loki looks up at Thor from beneath his mangled hair, his Jotun eyes glowing an eerie shade of red from behind the shadows painted across his face.

"Doing what?" Thor asks, tearing off a piece of his cape to use as a rag. He then extends the cloth towards Loki. "Do you mind?"

Loki touches the cloth and turns the fabric to frost. Thor nods his thanks and returns to scrubbing at the more stubborn stains on Loki's skin.

"Doing _this_." The Liesmith expresses, observing Thor as he works so hard to lend a helping hand. "Why are you being so... _kind_?"

"Because I _am_ kind."

Making a sour face, Loki gives his brother a look of denial, as if to say 'yeah sure'.

"I AM!" Acting offended, the Thunderer nudges his brother playfully whilst offering a small smile.

 _We were raised together. We played together, we fought together. Do you remember none of that?_

How many times has he betrayed him? Loki seriously can't even keep count. There was that time when he'd ruined Thor's big day and gotten his brother banished. (That was fun.) He'd sent the Destroyer after him. (Fun, again.) Tossed him out a S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarrier. (Did he mention how much fun it is to mess with Thor?) Destroyed a third of New York City. Killed a close friend and ally. Hel, he'd killed _a lot_ of people. And still his brother treats him like... well... his _brother_.

 _Sentiment..._

Thor had mourned his 'death'. Twice. Had believed in him when no one else did. Even after he'd confessed to impersonating the All-father and hiding Odin away in some unknown, remote location. Still, Thor was there for him. He even listened to Loki as he vented his frustrations after Sigyn had kicked him to the curb. As did he celebrate with him her happy return along with the news of their soon-to-be-expected child.

Because that's just what brothers do. Through good times and in bad, family's there for one another. Even if Loki hasn't been the greatest brother lately. Or son. Or husband... To be honest, he hasn't been the greatest _anything_ , really.

"Anything?" Loki asks, returning to his brother's offer. "You said you'd do _anything_?"

"Within reason, of course." The Odinson affixes, suddenly a bit worried he may have bitten off more than he can chew.

Those red eyes... No matter how many times Thor has seen him this way, he'll never quite get used to it. This side of Loki is just too darn creepy. But not nearly as creepy as that unsettling grin on his brother's face. So slight, tis hardly noticeable at all. Or mayhap it was just his imagination. Thor blinks and then it's gone.

"Of course..."

* * *

 _ **A/N: Watched Avengers again over the weekend. Gods, I love the dialogue in that movie! Couldn't help but pepper it in here and there in this chapter. What's your favorite Loki quote? Movies, comics, fanfic, etc? Lemme know!**_


	69. Then & Now

**THEN**

 **Svartalheim**

"OVER HERE!" A voice shouts from somewhere near. "I think he's alive!"

The palace soldier drops to his knees beside the mortally wounded former Prince of Asgard.

"Don't worry." He shouts above the howling storm. "You're going to be alright."

Where's Thor, Loki wonders as sand whips at his face. What's going on? Am I not already dead?

For however long he's been here, the Liesmith truly cannot say. Dipping in and out of consciousness like a bobber lost at sea. The brief moments when he's awake are filled with agony. So painful that he wishes for death. Until finally he passes out again and the cycle starts anew.

Loki's eyes flutter open. His conscious mind rises high above the tide and he knows the soldier is working to field dress his wounds.

Loki's eyes flutter shut again. He sinks back down below. Back inside the void. The nothingness where he knows that Thanos is waiting for him there, deep inside the darkest recesses of his mind. Waiting every time Loki closes his eyes to remind him that as long as he's alive, his life belongs to _him_. That as long as he's still breathing, he will never be free.

 _If you fail, if the Tesseract is kept from us, there will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice where he can't find you._

Loki opens his eyes again, and again, he wishes for death.

He closes his eyes.

 _You think you know pain?_

"There." The medic finishes with his patch. "I think you're going to make it!"

 _He will make you long for something as sweet as pain._

Loki opens his eyes.

And runs his dagger right through the soldier's heart.

The Einherjar doesn't even make a sound. Dead in an instant, his body falls upon the shore of ebony sand, bathed beneath the light of a black hole sun. The deserted wasteland where the Trickster Loki was meant to die. Where as far as any know it, he died, still.

"Thank you for your help." Loki groans, climbing painfully to his feet. "Truly, you have my deepest regards."

Loki belongs to no one. His allegiance lies with nothing but himself. He's nobody's pawn and sure as Hel nobody's puppet nor pet. He'd sooner die than to bow down to Thanos _or_ go back to sitting in that cage. The prison cell which 'father' was oh so kind to banish him to for the rest of eternity.

But since he's _not_ dead...

This is the chance he's been waiting for. His second chance at life. Everyone thinks he's dead and that's _good_. He can do anything he likes, now. _Be_ anything he likes. Or any _one_.

But first...

"Sorry. But I'm going to need your help with one more thing."

The soldier's skin turns bluish-grey and ashen. His hair from brown to black. The deceased Einherjar becomes Loki, as does Loki become the Einherjar, alive and well. An illusion. A clever little trick to make them appear as if they'd each swapped places. And none shall be the wiser.

"There..."

What a strange feeling it is to look down upon oneself. One's _dead_ self. There are no words. Besides, of course, "Handsome fellow if I do say so myself."

Clutching his wound, Loki manages to hide the pain as best he can as he seeks out the soldier's longship, where sure enough, more Einherjar are waiting.

"Well?" One calls lazily, leaning against their skiff. "Where is he?"

"You said the traitor Loki's still alive?" Another grunts, picking at his teeth

The disguised Liesmith bites his tongue to keep from saying something that will only blow his cover.

"Nay... I was mistaken." Loki replies after swallowing his pride. "He's perished. His body lies just beyond that dune. Ready for retrieval."

With a sigh, the first soldier pushes off the ship and begins walking. The other, though reluctant, follows suit.

"I don't see why we need to return his murderous arse back to Asgard. You ask me, we should leave him here to rot. Why not just dump him back onto Jotunheim soil? Let _those_ Frost-apes deal with his stinking corpse."

"Tis not up to us to question the All-father's wishes..."

Watching the pair of soldiers walk away, it takes every last ounce of all that is good within Loki not to just leave them here to this dead planet. To just hop inside the skiff and fly away to wherever. But that would surely be suspicious. And besides, he needs them both _alive_ in order for this little scheme to work. More than bodies, what Loki really needs right now are _witnesses_. He needs them to return his 'corpse' to Asgard. That way there can be no question whether he's in fact good and dead. Unlike his previous 'death' after he'd been thrown to the abyss, this time there can be no doubt.

Loki has to play it smart.

For now.

So he waits.

Wearing the Einherjar's skin, Loki waits inside the longship for the pair of soldiers to return with the body. Then, after everyone's secured, they proceed back to Asgard.

Simple.

Just like that.

Once back on Aesir soil, they go their separate ways. The two Einherjar transport the false God to prepare him for his funerary procession, leaving Loki with the task of breaking the news to his _not_ father. Something the Liesmith is very much looking forward to. He'd thought all about it on the long, boring trip back. Luckily the other Einherjar weren't particularly very chatty, leaving plenty of time for Loki to imagine what he'd do once confronted with the All-father.

Surely the King would welcome the news. Hel, he'd be happy for it! As they'd sailed across the stars, Loki savored the thought, imagining the All-father as he laughed at his 'sons' untimely death. And _let_ him. Let him laugh. Let them _all_ laugh. Because after he's through with them, it'll be Loki who's laughing. And everyone knows what they say about he who laughs last.

So, as the disguised Trickster enters the All-father's throne room, Loki readies his blade, excited at the idea of what shall come next.

"Forgive me, my liege." Loki disguises his voice to match the slain soldier's. "I've returned from the Dark World with news."

As if deep in thought, Odin stares at his empty throne, though the sound of the guard's voice draws him away. He turns ever so slightly to acknowledge his subject.

"Thor?" Odin inquires.

"There's no sign of Thor. Or the weapon." Loki speaks, taking a step closer. "But..."

"What?"

The All-father turns completely now, his attention piqued. He's taken the bait.

"We found a body." Loki as the Einherjar reveals.

There's a single beat of silence which fills the chamber. A moments pause as Odin absorbs the news. He needn't even ask whose body it was that they'd found. A father knows.

His eyes find the floor.

"Loki..."

From behind the guard's lips, Loki grins at the sound of his own name. This is the moment he's been waiting for. He couldn't be more excited.

But then the excitement fades. As Odin takes a seat upon the royal steps, it appears as if all the wind has been knocked right out of him. Like the world had toppled over and him with it.

This isn't at all what Loki was expecting. Where are the joyous cries of laughter? The thankful tears that the Trickster is no more? Certainly Odin would be relieved that he mustn't house a war criminal any longer. A horrid Jotun monster that should never have been welcomed into his home. Surely, they would have all been better off had Odin left him in the cold of Jotunheim to die. Alone.

Right?

Instead Odin sits. Quietly pensive as he looks out over the destruction all around him. Just a broken King contemplating his broken kingdom. His broken home.

"Your Excellency?" Loki wonders.

"Hm? Aye... Yes, thank you for the report." Odin dismisses, waving his hand. "You may take your leave now."

Confused, Loki takes a step backward. Maybe he _should_ leave. Certainly he can't kill the old man when he's in such a sad state as this. What would be the fun in that?

And yet something keeps his feet planted. Some strange sentiment or attachment that he didn't even know still existed. If it ever existed at all.

"Is... Is everything alright, Sire?" He asks cautiously.

"First my wife and now my child." A detached Odin shakes his head. "My son..."

Through the Einherjar's eyes, Loki observes the King with a puzzled expression.

"But... He wasn't your child. He wasn't your son, at all." The Laufeyson corrects him. "He was Laufey's son. The fallen King of the Frost Giants."

The All-father breaks from his blank, thousand-yard stare to look up at the Einherjar, staring him square in eye. Certainly not the most comfortable position for Loki, to be put in the spotlight. Suddenly he feels so exposed. Even whilst wearing another man's skin.

"Do you have children?" Odin asks him.

Such a strange thing to ask, Loki thinks to himself. He wonders why the King of the Golden Realm Eternal would even care for such trivial knowledge.

The Trickster shakes his head 'nay'.

"A shame." The All-father replies. "Because if you _were_ a father, you'd already know the answer to the question which you seek."

"And what question would that be?" Loki asks, curious.

Odin smiles softly, his one good eye twinkling with all the age and wisdom of the universe.

"If he's not my son, then why do I _care_?"

Hands on his knees, the All-father struggles to stand and Loki finds himself rushing the steps to help him. He'd come here to _kill_ him, to take his life as retribution for all the slights ever put against him. Slights he may have fabricated. The Liesmith can't be sure. At this moment, he's not even sure what he _feels_ anymore. Anger? Hate? Vengeance? Rage? None of it makes sense. As Loki helps his father to his throne, nothing makes a lick of sense anymore.

"I was there when Loki took his first steps. Said his first words. I was there for every skinned knee and runny nose. Every bedtime story. Every nightmare... It was _me_ , not Laufey. _I_ was there." Odin argues. "I may not have been the man to sire him, but do not doubt me for one second that I was not the boy's father."

The All-father looks exhausted. Concerned, Loki wonders if he's been taking proper care of himself since his mother's passing. Though he presents himself well, in all his kingly robes, he doesn't appear to be resting sufficiently. Which is a problem since the old man has been postponing his already long overdue Odin Sleep for years now. At this rate, he's bound to kill himself by the way he's running himself ragged.

"Being King is easy. There are rules to obey. A guide in which to follow." Odin speaks, his voice tired. "But being a parent... A father... There is no map. No guide. Nothing's ever that easy."

Loki's never seen Odin like this. Sure, he was warm, at times, especially after he'd had a few pints, but he was never this... _emotional_. Not like this. The events of these last few days have surely taken their toll.

"We should get you into bed, your Highness."

After letting his father rest a moment, Loki attempts to return him to his feet, snaking an arm under his in order to assist Odin to his chamber. But the All-father brushes the Einherjar away.

"I failed him." Odin mumbles, his vacant expression returned. "I failed _both_ of them."

"I'm sure you did the best you could, given the circumstances."

Loki's shocked at the words coming out of his mouth. He tells himself that he'd only said what he said to keep in character, but there's a part of himself that screams that's a lie. That his father's not the enemy. _He_ is. But the truth is, he's not at all sure what to believe anymore. With Odin acting the way that he is, this is all so confusing to Loki.

"A parent... should never have to bury their child..."

It makes Loki sad to see the All-father this way. Not only in his grieving, but in the twilight of his years. The Odin he knew and grew up with was fearsome and strong, revered well across the stars. He was a God among Gods. A power not to be messed with. But this man? This man who stands before him with love in his heart and tears in his eyes? Loki hardly recognizes him at all.

Watching his father mourn for him makes Loki doubt himself and everything he thought he knew. Just as he doubts the All-father's ability to rule. The One Eye's gotten old and tired. The weight of the crown and of his tremendous loss have left an impression, however sad but true. He's not the man he used to be. His vulnerability, in turn, has made Asgard itself vulnerable. And it's only a matter of time before the other realms and all their forces catch on to this, as well. If only his enemies could see him as he is now. How the great King has fallen. There'd be blood in the streets, for sure.

So what's a good son to do?

Or even a mediocre son, at best?

Fine... Who's he kidding? The Trickster's been a terrible son, through and through.

So the real question is, what's a _Loki_ to do in this current situation?

"Come." The disguised Einherjar insists.

Once more, Loki attempts to help the All-father to his feet, and this time Odin lets him.

"You need your rest."

Turning back, Loki stares at the empty throne which, if they would like to avoid an all out free-for-all among the realms, it will surely need filling. Not that he's trying to weasel his way to the crown. _Nayyyyyy_... As stated before, he never wanted it. Not really. But, since the seat is open, and Thor will not take it, well, it seems only fitting that Loki should fill it. It is his birthright, after all. And Asgard needs a King. Tis the right thing to do.

This is his second chance at life. His second chance to do anything he likes. _Be_ anything he likes. So why not be King?

Loki puts away his weapon, securing the dagger back up inside his sleeve as he assists the current King away.

* * *

 **NOW**

 **Midgard**

"Over here." Loki directs Thor through the busy streets of Manhattan. They stop in front of a building where at the entrance a plaque is displayed prominently. Shady Acres Care Home. "See? I told you he's alive."


	70. Shady Acres

**SHADY ACRES**

"You put father in a home."

"Aye. And?"

"You put _father_ in a _home!_ "

Two sons of Asgard, both Thor and Loki stand at the corner of 7th Avenue and 50th Street, staring at a cozy little senior home nestled snug between the high-rises of New York City. The same city where not seven years prior Loki had attempted to bring to its knees. And (thankfully) failed.

"Father." Thor declares in disbelief, pinching the bridge of his nose to ward off the headache coming on. "The greatest, most powerful being in all the known universe. And you stuck him in... What? A _nursing_ home?"

"Assisted living." Loki corrects his dumfounded (emphasis on the dumb) brother.

"And that's supposed to be better!?"

"Well... Yes." Loki still doesn't understand what all the fuss is about. "You see a nursing home provides a high level of medical care for the particularly weak or frail. While an assisted living community -"

"I KNOW what it means, Loki." Thor groans, even if he hasn't the _slightest_ idea what that means. "What I want to know is WHY would you even think to put Odin in a home? ANY home? His home is in Asgard!"

"And now his home is _here_."

Thor says nothing, just glares at his mischievous younger brother.

"What!? You both love Midgard so much, I thought you would _appreciate_ the gesture." Loki defends with a roll of his eyes. "Is it not customary for all spoiled Earth children, after having come of age, to deposit their elderly predecessors into such facilities?"

"Odin's not elderly! He's only about... Oh, I suppose... A million years old." Thor bounces his head on his shoulders. "Give or take a millennia."

Loki smirks, but says nothing.

"Shut up..." Thor smirks in return, bumping into his brother's arm as he proceeds towards the door. "Well? Are you coming?"

Together, they step inside the bright and cheery vestibule and are immediately greeted by the heavenly scent of fresh-baked cookies. There's a round antique table at the center of the entry, displaying a lovely arrangement of white lilies. And there's this _music_. A soothing quartet of strings plays quietly all about the room, likely over a PA system. All in all, it's really not so bad. A refreshing escape from all the hustle and bustle of the city that never sleeps found just outside these doors.

Upon first impressions, it's not at all what Thor was expecting. Not that he's even at all sure _what_ he was expecting. Asgard doesn't really have such facilities. But knowing his brother (and he does), he would have likely expected Loki to have just dumped their father out on some random street corner and left the rest up to fate, really. Either that or throw Odin to the dungeons just as he had done to him. But this is really quite charming. Quaint for a king, but charming, none-the-less. Even if he would never say so aloud and give his brother the satisfaction.

"Speaking of his age..." The Thunder God leans in to whisper quietly. "How _did_ you convince the staff that he's... You know..."

"Human?"

"Aye." The Odinson replies in a hushed tone as to not alert the locals that there be Gods who walk among them.

"Simple." Loki shrugs smugly. "I took away his powers."

"You... WHAT!?"

So much for anonymity. A gaggle of blue-haired old ladies look up from their knitting, scowls all around at the loud intrusion. Sporting a bashful blush, the God of Storms smiles and extends his apologies.

"Got the idea from you, actually." The Liesmith remains cool and keeps walking. Thor tails not far behind. "From when he banished you to Midgard. Thought I'd give _him_ a taste of humility, for a change."

Loki strolls himself right up to the front desk, head high, acting like he owns the place. Probably because, sure enough, he does.

"Mr. Locke!" The cheerful woman behind the desk stands eagerly to greet their most esteemed guests. "Mr. Locke, what a pleasure!"

"Mr. Locke?" Thor snickers beneath his breath.

"Shut it."

Not paying any mind to their very eager greeter, Loki casually retrieves a pen from off the desk and sets to signing himself and Thor into the guest book. Not by their actual names, of course.

"Margie, was it?" He directs his attention to the middle-aged woman without actually looking her in the face, just continues to fill out the paperwork. "Margie, I was hoping to see my father today. Would he be accepting visitors?"

"Of course!" She excitedly comes out from behind the desk to take them to him. "Ooo... And who might this be?"

"My brother." Loki replies, unenthused, returning the pen to its spot.

"You don't look anything alike." She comments. Being just a little (more like a lot) too nosy.

"He's adopted." Thor returns casually.

Accepting his answer, Margie nods and takes hold of Thor's arm.

"Sayyyy... Don't I know you?" The woman wonders, not being at all subtle about the way she's feeling up Thor's biceps hidden underneath his clothing. "I feel like I've seen you from somewhere before."

Even dressed in his Midgard best (best being an overstatement), a pair of blue jeans and a ratty old shirt layered with a thin hoodie and jacket (seriously, he looks like he climbed out of a dumpster), the Son of Odin is something of a celebrity in this realm, easily noticed from all his galavanting about publicly with those Avenger types. And, you know, from all the times he's saved the world...

"Yeah, he gets that a lot." Loki grimaces at the awkward exchange.

Though Loki cleans up well (when he's not up to his elbows in blood), there's just no competing with his adoptive brother, Thor. Dressed to impress in a sharp suit and smart tie (seriously classy), his hair perfectly groomed and impeccably slicked back (swoon), still, Loki will always come in second when compared to the rightful Prince of Asgard.

"Oh! Hello!" Thor yelps in surprise as Margie squeezes his backside.

Flirting with the blond beefcake, the receptionist has forgotten all about 'Mr. Locke' and his business here at the Shady Acres Care Home. It's as if he doesn't even exist. Like he's living in Thor's shadow all over again. Something the attention-seeking Liesmith should be very well used to by now.

Stealing her attention away (and her sneaky hand) the Trickster sets to get the rather randy woman back on task.

"My father?" Loki reminds as polite as possible.

"Oh yes!" Margie claps her hands. "Follow me!"

With an added swivel in her very full hips, she grabs Thor's arm and begins walking. Along the way, her mouth doesn't stop for one second. Not even to take in air.

"Did you know we were scheduled to close?" Margie continues on (and on). "They were gonna knock us down. Make room for another one of them big skyscrapers or something. But thanks to Mr. Locke's _most_ generous donation, we were able to keep our doors open. And not only that, but we added a whole new wing of residents _plus_ upgraded many of our amenities! Like our enrichment programs, housekeeping, award-winning chef-prepared meals, the lap pool..."

Margie, their guide, leads them down a corridor of pale blue wallpaper and bland, generic artwork, the kind one would expect in every hotel lobby or guest house from coast to coast and back again.

"Maybe later I can show you around some. Give you the _private_ tour." Their handsy host returns her digits to the demigod's derrière. "We can take a dip in the pool. Just you and me..."

Thor turns his head to look back at his brother, mouthing the words "help me" and causing Loki to laugh. Trailing a good ten steps behind, the Trickster grins in amusement, watching his elder brothers torment at the mercy of their desperate tour guide.

All his life, Loki put up with the throngs of ambitious, young women who would practically (and sometimes literally) throw themselves at his brothers feet. Not that he's jealous, of course. (Sure...) But, what a delight it is to see how terribly that's backfired for the Golden God now.

"Really, I would, but sadly I'm taken. Really."

"Liar..." Loki pretends to clear his throat.

Now that they've stopped, Thor practically has to pry her hands off him.

"Fine..." Thor scowls at his bothersome brother. "Well, I'm sure _Mr. Locke_ would enjoy a dip in the pool. Wouldn't you, Mister Lock _E._ Laufeyson?"

With a grin, Loki shoves his hands in his pants pockets. This is so absolutely thrilling, watching Thor sweat. A bit of fun that is very much needed to help bury down all the other terrible emotions bottled up inside.

"Oh, none for me, thanks." Loki sing-songs with a smile. "I'm married."

Chuckling, the Mischief-maker takes a step forward, clapping his hand to Thor's back as if to say 'you got this, bro'. Then, with a polite wave, enters the big, common room that they've stopped in front of, leaving Thor to his own dreaded fate outside.

"Loki!?" Thor cries with a worried expression. "Loki, get back here!"

Well, that was fun, Loki thinks as he closes the double doors behind him. But as much fun as it was (has he ever mentioned how much fun it is to mess with Thor?), now's the time to get down to business and take things more seriously. After all, the fate of the world is at stake. As is his own secret agenda.

Loki takes a deep breath and exhales slowly.

This isn't at all easy for him, coming here. He hasn't seen Odin since first dropping him off. Sure Loki gave them money, _lots_ of money, a whole sack-full of Asgardian gold to care for his father and do with the rest as they saw fit (mostly to keep quiet and not ask questions). But actually coming to visit? Loki tells himself he never came because he didn't _care_ , or mayhap he was too busy playing King. But the truth of the matter is, he never visited his father because he was _afraid_. Not of how angry Odin must be or what he might do to him. Well, maybe just a _little_. But mostly he was afraid of... He's not even sure what.

Maybe it was the fear of recognizing Odin's own mortality. The idea that even he, too, shall one day die. Or maybe it was the fear of recognizing Odin as his father. The fact that Loki may actually have _feelings_ for this man. This man who took him in from out of the cold and raised him as his own. The man who built him up, told him he was born to be King, only to rip it all away. The man who imprisoned him. Who let him live. Who's slowly dying... Maybe Loki's afraid of losing the only father that he's ever known. In his own way, maybe Odin loved him. And maybe, just maybe, Loki fears that he may love him, too.

Someone grabs Loki from behind, yanking him from his thoughts. He turns his head to spy Thor glaring at him.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you." The Odinson accuses.

"I've no idea what you mean." Loki sighs.

"Margie?" Thor returns. "You put a love spell on her, didn't you!"

"A love spell... Really?" Again, he sighs. "Such childish charms are well beneath my talents."

Arms crossed, Loki adds, "And besides, you're the one with the knack for the ladies. So I'd say you're more at fault than I am. I can't be blamed for your... rugged machismo."

But Thor knows better than to accept Loki's words at face value. Instead, the Son of Odin stares until the Liesmith surrenders the truth.

"Well... Fine. Maybe just a _little_ spell." Loki smirks. "WHAT!? Don't look at me like that. It was funny! I needed a good laugh."

Though he tries his hardest not to, Thor can't help but smirk along too.

"How did you escape her, by the way?" Loki asks, intrigued.

Thor says not a word, but points a single finger to Loki's shoulder, then zaps him with a current of electricity. Enough to shock a God. Or taze a touchy tour guide out cold.

"OWW!" Loki cries and grabs for his shoulder.

Now it's Thor's turn to laugh.

"You really think I have a rugged machismo?" He chuckles as Loki rubs at his sore shoulder.

But Loki doesn't answer. Not that he's annoyed at his brother's electrifying prank in response to his own silly spell (well, maybe just a little). Instead, Loki quietly scans the room for Odin.

"I was lucky to make it out alive, you know." Thor carries on.

The common room is fairly packed and brimming with activity. There's a couch beside a gas-lit fireplace where a small group of residents have gathered for a bit of light reading. And in the corner of the room sits a decent-sized television, set to a game show of some sort. Although there's some argument as to whether it should be changed to sports. (Or whatever this planet accounts for sport, anyway)

"That woman's a man-eater. _Ughhh_..." Thor shivers. "Like an octopus with hands."

'Shhhh!"

Loki finally finds Odin. The All-father of the universe, hidden in plain sight among the mortals of this realm as if he were one of them. Like the sacred hidden amongst the mundane, he blends right in. So much so that Loki hardly even recognizes him, at all.

Dressed in a simple man's clothing, one would never suspect, looking at him as he is now, that this man is in fact a king. And not just any king, but _the_ King. The God of Gods. Odin. The All-father. Master of the Nine Worlds. King of the Realm Eternal. (And so on and so on...) Who would guess that he's an all-powerful being?

Or was.

Thor follows Loki's line of sight. Sitting at a table along with a group of other elder gentlemen, Odin plays a hand of cards.

"Father!"

Rushing forward, the son of Odin gains his father's attention. Hands returned to his pockets, Loki hesitates for a moment before slowly following after.

"Thor?"

The old man recognizes his son immediately and stands to greet him.

"Thor! My son!" He beams, taking Thor by the shoulders and hugging him tight. "Everyone, this is my son, Thor!"

The whole room turns to inspect their latest visitor, those at Odin's card table included.

"I thought you said he was a soldier..."

"...fought in the war..."

"Looks more like some dang hippie..."

"...should get his hair cut..."

They're not even trying to keep their voices down (or their opinions to themselves). Which is something the Heroic Prince isn't at all comfortable with. The adoration he's used to, sure, but the snarky commentary? That's more Loki's area of expertise.

"I've come to get you out of here." Thor leans in quietly to his father, eying the room. "We should go now."

"Sure." Odin brushes him off, returning to his game. "After this round."

"There's more at stake than just a _game_ , father." His son returns impatiently. "Can't you see? I'm here to rescue you. The realms _need_ you!"

"The realms will always need me." Odin concentrates on his hand, then adds a few pieces of currency to the pot. "Surely they can wait a moment more."

Shocked, Thor's speechless. This isn't at all like his father to act so indifferent when it comes to the realms safety. He's the All-father. It's his _job_ to protect the them. But more than that. It's his _duty_.

"Loki?"

Thor looks to Loki for assistance. Surely this must be _his_ doing. Some spell or curse or mischief on his brother's part. But Loki only shrugs and shakes his head. This isn't him.

"Has Loki come with you?" Odin inquires with a touch of unexpected fondness to his tone.

It simply never occurred to Thor that maybe his father doesn't _want_ to be rescued. That he doesn't want the responsibility of the crown. He's grown too old and tired for it. Unable to bear the weight any longer. And it's cruel of Thor to ask him to.

Hands in his pockets, Loki timidly steps out from Odin's blind spot, coming around Thor to take a seat down by his father. He doesn't say a word, because what is there to say, really? Besides, of course, 'Hey. Sorry I took away your powers and stuck you in a shelter for mortals. Oh, and for stealing your throne. I made a lovely mess of things while you were gone, by the way. Got married. Ruined that, too. But you seem to be alright. So how are things going?'

"It isn't like you to visit." Odin comments, doubling his bet. "But it's nice to see you. _Both_ of you. As is it nice to see the two of you playing together so nicely, for a change."

"Father..." His tone serious but not at all insensitive, Thor kneels down beside Odin. "Valhalla is in trouble. The fate of the realms -"

"Valhalla can handle itself without our interference. They'd much prefer it that way, anyway, without the aid of those outside." Odin stops Thor right there. "But if you're so concerned, you should go and seek out Freya. She'd know how to handle things much better than I." Scooping up his winnings, Odin adds, "Will you both be staying for supper? I do hope so. They make the most amazing pot roast."

"Freya is dead." Loki carefully cuts to the point, without explaining too much (like how he was the one to kill her).

Odin lets out a deep sigh, folding his cards. His once strong hands tremble ever so slightly at the news of the loss of his once close friend and ally.

"Well, that is terrible news." He replies, sadly, keeping with composure. "Then I'm afraid the responsibility falls to Freya's daughter, Sigyn. Loki? You remember your old friend, Sigyn, don't you?"

The sound of her name is enough to send a wave of chills down Loki's spine. Ashamed, he turns his eyes to the floor.

"Yeah... About that..." Rubbing his neck anxiously, Thor answers for his brother.

Odin turns to Thor, then with his one good eye, he sets his sight on Loki, noticing for the first time the braid woven in his hair. The slender sliver of white gold married with his raven black. Joined as one. The observant King understands immediately. Even if he doesn't know the whole story, the widower understands exactly what it's like to lose everything.

"Yes, I see." He scratches at his stubbled chin. "Indeed much has happened while I've been away."

The King becomes quiet. He pushes his chair back from the card table, despite the other's objections that he's left the game. Especially the white-haired old man beside him who's particularly peeved about the disruption.

"Hey! We're in the middle of a game, here!" The bespectacled man argues.

But Odin doesn't pay the old man any mind. In fact, tis the first time he's taken his sons visit seriously or anything they've had to say.

"Amora..." The Old King sighs, his voice tired.

He doesn't even need to be told. Odin knows already who's the culprit.

Thor nods.

"Loki had said she made mention of a treaty?" He inquires.

As much as his father had prepared him for the throne, Thor realizes that there's still a great many things he hadn't told him. Secrets kept guarded and held close to his chest.

"Aye." Odin replies, shaking himself from his thoughts. "The treaty."

"What does it mean?" Thor asks.

Saying nothing, the All-father rises from his seat and immediately touches the tips of his fingers to both Thor and Loki's foreheads.

"Wait!" Loki cries. "What are y-"

And then they all vanish.

Gone in an instant.

All the men around the table stare at the vacant spot where their friend had once stood, but now's empty.

"Where did they go?" One asks.

"That was rude." Another inserts.

Leaning over the table, the glasses-wearing grandpa gallantly gathers up the missing monarch's gold to claim it for his own.

"Excelsior!" He cries, and they all return to their game.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Stan Lee cameo! lol  
Since my universe shares little bits and pieces of the MCU, I thought it would be fun to flip the script and play with the idea of what life for Odin would have been like in the care home, rather than Loki just dumping him to the curb. Sorry, that's it, though. There'll be no Hulks ahead!**_


	71. The Bigger Picture

**THE BIGGER PICTURE**

"-ou doing!?"

Quicker than the speed of light, the All-father transports both his sons clear across the cosmos, far from the concrete jungle of Midgard, to someplace a little more _green_.

Having been unexpectedly tossed inside the spin cycle of reality and dumped out only Gods knows where, Loki feels like hurling, and Thor's not fairing any better. Not that either son are novices at the complexities of space travel, but to teleport by means of magic so completely unprepared? They should consider themselves lucky if they only feel a little queasy, and still have all their arms and legs about them.

"I thought you said you took away his powers." Thor huffs as he leans over to catch his breath.

"I did." Loki stretches out his back. He feels as if he's been trampled by a bilgesnipe. That's the last time he lets his father drive, that's for damned sure. "Guess it didn't take."

Having no adverse reaction to his spell, the All-father stands tall.

"Took me quite a while to break free from your spell." Odin compliments his mischievous son. "Your mother would have been proud."

"Then why did you stay?" Thor begs the question. "With your magic restored, you could have left any time you wanted. Why not return to Asgard? Your people _need_ you!"

He doesn't answer, but then again, he doesn't have to. Loki already knows the reason why.

Odin never returned home because he gave his son a chance. He gave Loki a shot at the throne. And he blew it. Instead of making a real difference in the worlds, the Liesmith spent his time making a real mess of things. He'd been a bratty, little shit, only ever concerned in and about himself. Just drinking and partying and fucking around, with little concern to anything else but his own wants and needs. He was selfish. And lazy. And no one's more hard on him than himself.

Thor was right when he said the throne would suit Loki ill. If only he had listened, then maybe the realms would not be in danger. Maybe both he and Thor wouldn't have needed to run to Daddy for help. Maybe Sigyn would still be alive...

Odin doesn't need to say these things for Loki to know what he already feels inside. Because the truth of the matter is, it's all his fault. Every bad thing that has ever happened, from the moment Odin brought him home, an abandoned frightened child, up until now, is all because of _him_. And this time Loki has no one to blame but himself.

"Do you know where we are?" The All-father asks, shifting the conversation.

"Yggdrasil." Thor stands himself upright, glancing around. "The World Tree."

"Aye."

Sitting at the center of the universe, the massive World Tree may very well be the most important thing, either living or dead, in all of creation. More important than Thor or Odin. Certainly more important than Loki. Even more than Asgard, itself. Or any realm, for that matter. Because it is not one, but _all_ of them. The sum of all parts. Yggdrasil is the embodiment of the nine realms united. In all its lush foliage and ever-reaching branches, it connects the worlds as one.

Kept guarded, for obvious reasons, it's been ages since Loki has come here. He remembers visits as a child, maybe only a handful of times. Odin would tell his stories while he and Thor made bets on who could climb the highest. Of course neither of them got any further than the nearest cluster of stars.

"I don't understand." Thor wonders. "Why bring us here?"

Resting his weary bones, Odin takes a seat upon a small rootling.

"My father was a good man, a fine father, and a great King. Mayhap even greater than myself." Odin begins, stroking at the ash tree's aged bark. "But for all his greatness, he was not without his faults. And his faults, just like my own, were just as great as they were unforgivable."

"I don't see what this has to do with Amora."

Crossing his arms, Thor grows impatient. They've no time for stories when the realms are at stake. Especially with both Asgard and Valhalla having been left so pitifully unprotected. The throne sits empty, just _waiting_ to be seized. Surely the Enchantress has already laid claim to it by now. If there's even anything left of it to claim by the time she is through. Tis only a matter of time before she works her way through the realms, snatching them up, one by one. Growing more and more powerful with every passing second. All the while they just _stand_ here. Talking.

"The treaty." Loki follows, carefully taking a seat beside his father.

Odin nods and continues.

"What can you tell me about the Tree?" He asks, looking up into its vast branch system.

"Tis old. Older than the Gods." Loki replies slowly, glancing up as well. "It existed well before time or creation, and shall exist well past we're all dead and gone."

" _Mmm_... And?" Odin insists he continue.

"The Bifrost taps into the power of the World Tree, granting us transport about the realms."

"And how many realms would that be?"

Loki looks at Odin strangely. Why does he feel as if he's been led into a trick question?

"Nine." Thor answers irritably. "There are _nine_ realms. Everyone knows that. And the longer we waste here, the more we put those nine realms in je-"

"Wrong!" Odin stands abruptly, cutting Thor off. "There are _ten_ realms. _Ten!_ "

Both Thor and Loki stare at Odin as if he were mad. He's grown more old and senile than they'd originally thought if he truly believes there to be ten realms.

"You think I'm crazy." Odin grins and calms. "Fine. Count them."

Crazy or not, far be it from the brothers to disobey their father (at the moment). Especially when he's this serious about something. So they humor him. Looking up into the swirling leaves of burning gas and shooting stars, they count all the worlds they find, one by one.

"Muspelheim." Thor begins, staring at the bright orange orb of scorched sky and molten rock secured within the Tree's mighty roots.

Odin nods.

"The World of Fire." He agrees. "Continue."

"Helheim." Thor adds to the list. "Svartalfheim."

"The World of the Dishonored Dead and the Dead Dishonored World." Odin acknowledges. "Go on."

"Jotunheim." Loki adds, recognizing the frigid blue ball of ice immediately.

Funny how from here, it actually even looks pretty.

"Aye, my son." Odin smiles. "The World of Giants."

The King takes a step forward, admiring the celestial bodies above.

"Muspelheim, Svartalfheim, Jotunheim, Midgard, Nidavellir, Alfheim, Vanaheim, Asgard, Hel," Odin counts, "and lastly, Heven."

There's a moment's pause of silence.

"I don't understand. I still only see nine." Thor searches the sky. "And what, if anything, does this have to do with grandfather? _Or_ Amora? You're not making any sense!"

"There _was_ a tenth realm..." Loki says quiet.

But no more.

Without another word, neither confirming nor denying, Odin stares up solemnly at the heavens above.

"Your father?" Loki asks, looking to Odin for answers. "Bor?"

"He succeeded where you had tried and failed." Odin replies, reminding Loki of his attempted destruction of Jotunheim. "Bor single-handedly wiped the realm clean from the stars. Something of which he'd grow to resent himself for very much."

"But... Why?" Thor wonders, finally taking his father a little more seriously now.

With but a single word, Odin answers, "Love."

 _Never fall in love._

 _Never get married._

 _To love is a sign of weakness._

 _The rules are put in place for a reason, or have you forgotten?_

"The Valkyrie." Loki realizes out loud.

It isn't all that difficult for the Dark Prince to follow along. Loki already had all the pieces, he just needed some help in putting everything together. To see the bigger picture.

"Before they would come to be called Valkyrie, they were better known as the Angels of Heven." Odin explains. "And they ruled the skies without mercy."

"Back in the days of my father's father, when the World Tree was still but a small sapling and the realms were brand new, a great war waged across the cosmos, a clash of power between all races to decide the grand order of things.

Naturally, your great-grandfather, Buri, displayed his dominance with ease, and many bowed before his might. And with each realm he conquered, he did so in the name of Asgard, securing what would one day become our place in the center of the universe.

The Tenth Realm, however, would not fall in line so easily. If, at all. Heven would prove itself to be a formidable opponent. Their forces just as fearsome, if not more so, than our own.

So they fought.

Endlessly.

For centuries the Aesir and the Angels waged a needless war without any end in sight. A bloodbath which would inevitably spill into all surrounding realms. Many lives were lost on either side, but still the fighting raged on, with neither willing to back down.

Too evenly matched, and far too stubborn, a ceasefire seemed impossible. It wasn't until years later, upon the aged King's failing health did he look back upon his legacy and see the error in his ways. He realized, then, that the only way to ever unite the realms as one was not by means of force, but through peace. And so, upon his death bed, at long last, the treaty was created."

"And what did the treaty entail?" Loki wonders, following along with every word of his father's story.

"The son of Asgard would marry the daughter of Heven, and together, through their union, so would the realms be as one." Odin answers.

"But that didn't happen." Thor adds. "Did it."

While he may not be an expert at the details of his own family tree, surely the sworn Prince of Asgard knows enough to remember the little fact that grandmother Bestla hadn't any wings.

"Nay." Odin replies.

The Son of Bor wonders how different things might have been had such a union taken place. Would he have been born part Valkyrie? Perhaps he wouldn't have been born at all. Would the realms have found peace through unity? Or have they always been destined to fail? Even from the beginning?

"My father cared for my mother with all the love and dignity a husband could provide." Odin remembers. "But it wasn't until he was so very close to death, himself, did he confide in me that his heart had once belonged to another. But for all the love inside his heart, she would never love him back."

"As Buri breathed his final breath, so was the treaty signed. His heir, Bor, son of Asgard, was arranged to wed Brün, the daughter of Heven. He had left to his son his kingdom, all the realms which he had aquired with wishes that his son would be a wiser, more benevolent king than he ever was. He'd hoped that through their love, all the universe would prosper. Alas, his hopes were never meant to be. For Brün had fallen for another.

His name was Sigurd the Ever-Glorious, Bor's second in command as well as his best and closest friend. Which, according to my father, only made the betrayal all the more painful. Unbeknownst to neither Brün nor Sigurd, Bor had caught the pair together late one night, and in his jealousy, devised a plan, a decision that would change the universe forever.

As my father told the story, he'd had his once friend captured and beaten within an inch of his life before casting him from Asgard. Sigurd was exiled to the highest mountains of Midgard, at the time a primitive realm of zero consequence, where he was forced to live out the remainder of his years in solitude. Far from his home and the woman that he loved. Alone.

He then called upon his bride and expressed to her his worries that Sigurd had gone missing while on assignment and how he'd yet to return. Worried for her lover, there was little doubt that Brün would accept the mission to go after him. As a show of good faith, Bor even offered Brün five of his most skilled soldiers to aid her in this quest. Those soldiers, however, had already been given their orders. Knowing this to be a suicide mission, none expected to make it home alive.

And so they set off in search of the Ever-Glorious. Brün, the five Einherjar, and three of her own personal hand maidens, the Valkyrie. Those of Heven who had pledged their allegiance to both their Queen and to the crown of Asgard. But not soon after they'd departed, were they led into a trap. A deep pitfall commissioned by the King. One too tall in which to climb from and too narrow for their wings. The perfect snare to catch an Angel.

After a week, their supplies began to dwindle and it became painfully obvious that they were on their own. No one was coming for them. Two weeks and those wounded began to succumb to their injuries. Three weeks and all began to starve.

An Einherjar soldier passed away in the night and the question arose as to what should be done with the body. Brün looked to her fellow Valkyrie and the answer was obvious. They would do what they must, whatever it took, to survive.

One by one, the warrior women feasted upon God flesh, starting with those weakest, to make themselves strong. And once their strength had returned, they then fashioned the men's bones into a crude ladder and the tools necessary to begin their ascent back to the surface.

The women returned to Asgard and Brün shared with her King their story. She figured he'd be glad to see her well, that he'd take pity on her plight, but instead she was met with hate. Not only was Bor furious that she'd escaped his trap unharmed, but disgusted in the way his men had met their fate. In that moment, he then cursed her and her kind."

"A curse?" Loki asks, suddenly very worried for the sake of Sigyn's soul. As is Odin. "What manner of curse?"

"I'm sorry, my son." The All-father expresses. "I know how much she meant to you."

Odin wishes he could tell him more, to ease his troubled mind, but the truth is just too painful. And dangerous. Too dangerous to speak aloud. To call upon the curse is to call upon a fate much worse than death, itself. The All-father can only hope that wherever Sigyn is right now, that she's at peace. That somehow she'd been spared.

"And what of Heven?" Thor inquires, returning Odin's attention.

"At the time, the World Tree was so very young and malleable." Odin shares. "After my father had sent Brün off with his men on their mission, he then journeyed to Yggdrasil, and in his rage, severed the branch clear off. Without its anchor to the Tree, the realm then drifted and became swallowed by the void. All had perished."

As a young boy, the Odinson had heard many tales of his grandfather's adventures. Tales of his life and ambitions and of all the noble deeds he had accomplished, but never had he heard a story such as this. It makes the Prince sick to his stomach.

"And the Valkyrie?" Loki asks, shifting the story back to Sigyn and her kind.

"Bor had them exiled from Asgard. With no home to return to, they wandered." Odin answers his son freely. "Soon, four became five. Unbeknownst to Brün, she grew with Sigurd's child. A daughter whom she'd come to name Freya. And five became more. And so on and so forth."

So many secrets, the Dark Prince thinks to himself. It makes one wonder what other Helish truths the old man's been hiding.

"After the throne was passed down to me, I saw it as my duty, both as a son and as King, to correct the sins of my father's dark past. I sought to make peace with the Valkyrie." The All-father continues. "Using the stars, I crafted for them a new home, a world which would later be known as Valhalla. And over time, little by little, I slowly earned back their trust. An uneasy feat considering our history. Until finally, I'd earned the right to speak with their leader, Queen Freya, where I was glad to discover that we both wanted the same thing. Peace. And so the treaty was brought back into consideration."

"The son of Asgard and the daughter of Valhalla."

"Aye. And together, through their union, so would the realms be as one." Odin nods. "To prevent another war, and to bring our clans closer together, it was decided that our children would one day marry, and together rule as one. However, that too, would never come to be."

Tis a heavy burden to place upon a child, _any_ child, of royal blood or not. To take on the sins of one's father, and of his father's father, centuries of war and infighting, in which they had nothing to do with, at all.

"After Thor was born, it was arranged that he would be wed to Freya's eldest, Amora, upon his coronation." Odin reveals to both his stunned sons.

"You mean that bag-full of crazy?!" Thor gasps. He then turns to his brother and adds, "No offense."

"Why would I be offended?" Loki wonders.

Unless, of course, Thor was implying that he was just as much a bag of crazy as Amora.

"Aye, however, at an early age, it was discovered that Amora was, as you so put it, _a bag-full of crazy_ , and was therefor deemed unfit to rule. Something of which, as you're well aware, did not sit lightly with the girl." Odin confirms. "So when Freya's daughter, Sigyn, was born, the responsibility fell to her."

"And by responsibility," Loki notes with a touch of jealousy, "you mean she was meant to marry Thor."

In his heart, he always knew it, that Sigyn was meant for his brother. As is the throne and everything else that came with being the only rightful son of Odin.

"Aye. She _was_ supposed to marry Thor." Odin replies, his single eye smiling at his youngest son. "Until, that is, I altered the arrangement."

Confused, Loki looks to Odin for answers.

"I don't understand..."

But he does. He _does_ understand.

 _You took me for a purpose. What was it?_

 _I thought we could unite our kingdoms one day. Bring about an alliance, bring about permanent peace... through you._

All this time and Loki had thought Odin was talking about Jotunheim. That he was meant to bring about a peace between the Jotnar and the Aesir empires. The Mischief God had no idea the grander scale of things. That he was, in truth, meant for so much more.

The throne was always meant for Thor, but to Loki, his father gave him something even more valuable. He gave to him the only thing he'd ever truly wanted.

Love.

"I love you, my sons."

Staring up into the cosmic branches of the World Tree, Odin's voice grows distant. The journey here has taken its toll, leaving him exhausted, but still he managed to say everything he'd needed to tell them. And just in time, too. His skin begins to shimmer a glittering gold as his body slowly dies away.

"Father!" Thor cries.

Loki's eyes grow wide. His heart breaks for the second time in as many days, if it were even possible to survive another heartbreak.

Odin told him that he loves him. He called him his son. So then why does Loki feel as if all he'd ever been was just one giant disappointment, in the end.

He'd been trusted with this great task and he blew it. Burdened with becoming a beacon of peace, but all he ever brought about was war. He'd destroyed any chance of achieving a treaty between the Valkyrie and Asgard-kind. Along the way, he'd even managed to kill two Queens of Valhalla, one of them his wife. So how is Loki any different than Bor? How is he any less a monster? How can his father still _love_ him?

"Please... Don't go." The son of Odin begs. They've so little time, but still so many questions. They've come here for answers, for help in defeating the Enchantress. Odin can't leave them just yet. "We need you. The realms-"

"Will be just fine." The All-father assures him.

To that, he has no doubt.

Just as he'd surpassed his own father's legacy, Odin has all the faith in the worlds that his sons shall surpass his. Because that's how he'd raised them. To be _better_. Better than him or his father or his father's father. They're their own men, now. They walk their own path. And he _believes_ in that path. He has to. Because he believes in _them_. Even if they don't believe in themselves. Odin leaves this world in knowing that the realms are in safe hands. In the end, everything will work out just fine.

And if it doesn't... Well... Then they're all screwed.

"Look, up there..." The dying father marvels at the cosmos above. "Home."

Somewhere far off in the heavens, Odin can hear his wife calling, the sounds of Valkyrie singing, guiding him home. Like starlight drifting upon the tail of a comet, in a shower of pure energy, he sparkles and then fades away.

Silence falls around the brothers, watching as their father's spirit ascends and becomes one with the universe. They stand there for what feels like eternity, at the edge of everything, quietly contemplating. Until finally Thor sighs.

"Well, shite. Now what?"


	72. Dumbest Idea Ever

**DUMBEST IDEA EVER**

Standing at the base of the World Tree, Thor looks up into its vast branches, eyes trained upon the black of space.

"So... What do we do now?" He wonders out loud, staring off into the cosmos.

Not two minutes prior he'd watched as his father, the Father of All, passed away. In shimmering light, Odin's body died and his soul ascended, his energy becoming one with the universe. A magnificent sight, however sad to see him go.

As a son, Thor's only grateful that his father went in peace, he didn't suffer. What he isn't grateful for, however, is all the baggage Odin left behind. The dark secrets he's learned, the burden of all who came before him, tis all too much for the future King of Asgard to handle.

This conflict with Amora is so much more than what either of them had first suspected. Tis a vendetta rich in history. A war millions of years in the making, which has inevitably exploded upon their front door. And Odin left it all to them, both he and Loki, his sons, to pick up all the pieces. To solve what he nor his father never could. The impossible task of achieving peace with the Valkyrie. Only problem is, Thor doesn't even have the slightest idea where to start.

Finding Odin and seeking his help was pretty much the extent of the plan. They'd expected _him_ to know what to do next. So now that he's gone, they've lost all direction. There is no Plan B. To put it simple, they're screwed.

"Valhalla." Loki chimes in. "We're going to Valhalla."

Staring at the ground, the Mischief God has turned his back on the stars. Instead, he sits down in the dirt, idly picking at the blades of grass.

"We can't go to Valhalla, Loki." Thor argues.

"Why not?" Loki counters. "You've been there. You know the way."

"Tis not a matter of getting there." He tries to explain. "Aye, I've been to Valhalla. I _can_ get us there, but -"

"But you won't."

"Fine. I _won't_." Thor groans. "If that's how you'd like to see it, so be it. I _won't_ take you to Valhalla, Loki."

"But why?"

"WHY?!" He laughs. "Because they'll _kill_ you! They'll kill us _both_!"

Thor takes a seat beside his brother, folding his hands in his lap.

"There has to be another way." He sighs. "What we need is a plan."

"What we _need_ is an army." Loki objects. "And I _have_ one."

"You have nothing." Thor calls his bluff.

"I'm their King." Loki argues his case. "The Valkyrie will lis-"

"The Valkyrie will do nothing, certainly not listen to _you_." Thor's quick to cut him off. "King or not, they'll take orders from _no_ man. Especially not the man who has _murdered_ their Queens."

After a tense moment, he adds, "Sorry."

Thor doesn't mean to hurt his brother's feelings, but this idea of his is crazy. Meeting with the Valkyrie is suicide. Plain and simple. Nothing good will come of it, no matter how good his intentions.

"Regardless of whether or not they might listen, the Valkyrie have a right to know what Amora is planning." Loki continues in earnest. "We need to _warn_ them."

It's not like Loki to stick his neck out for others. In all his life, the Trickster's never been one to concern himself with the welfare of another, especially if it means putting his own life on the line. Whether or not the worlds are at stake makes no difference. There has to be another motive, another reason for him to want to seek out Valhalla so badly.

"She's not there, Loki." With a gentle voice, Thor reminds his brother.

He guesses that the Liesmith's true purpose for wanting to risk it all to go visit Valhalla so badly is on the off chance he might actually find Sigyn.

"You don't know that." Loki replies.

And he guessed right.

Valhalla, Valkyrie, curses and souls. This is all so new to Loki. He's no idea _what_ to think.

 _Have you ever put any thought into what would happen to your soul when you die?_

Sigyn's soul could be in Valhalla. It _could_. And if he can return her soul to her body, then... Well, there's a chance. A chance, no matter how slim, that Loki just has to take. He _must_. Because if he allows himself to give up hope... The Son of Laufey plucks another blade of grass.

Thor sighs heavily and hangs his head back, staring up at the stars again. He can't believe he's actually about to go through with this. Before he even opens his mouth, the Goodly Prince already regrets what he's about to say.

"We'll need disguises." Thor considers. "If we're going to infiltrate Valhalla, we need to look the part."

Meaning _women_. They'll need to look like women.

One does not simply waltz into Valhalla. Tis an exclusive club, by invitation only, where only the chosen may enter. The worthy dead are meticulously selected based upon honor and their ability to fight. While those of the living... well... let's just hope they don't look under their skirts. Because if Thor and Loki are found out to be men, then they won't be living all that much longer.

Aye. It's true that Thor has been to Valhalla. _Once_. And the only reason why he was able to gaze upon the Golden Halls unharmed was because he was a guest of their Queen. Just before his doomed coronation, both he and his father met with the Valkyrie as ambassadors of Asgard. It was a mission of peace so that he could learn of their culture and how that would affect his soon-to-be role as King. Now of course that never happened, thanks to Loki. Nor, as he's only just recently discovered, did his father tell him _everything_ to better prepare him for the role.

"Ready." Loki chimes.

Eager to get this show on the road, in a flash of green magic, the Shapechanger transforms his body into that of a woman. And not just any woman, but Sif.

"Must you really use her likeness?" Thor asks with a grimace.

Not that there's anything wrong with his brother's magic. The illusion is uncanny. Down to the very last detail, in fact. Which in there lies the problem. The spell is a little _too_ convincing.

Seeing as both Thor and Sif have been becoming _close_ lately, should he wish to become even closer, the last thing Thor wants to think of is his brother were they to ever find themselves together more... _intimately_.

"What?" Loki as Sif hums in a feminine voice. "You don't like?"

Loki puts a sexy little swivel into his now very womanly hips, and suddenly the thought of ever becoming intimate with Sif makes the son of Odin want to heave.

"No... Tis... Not that I... Oh, whatever. Just do me next." He relents.

Another flash of green and Loki transforms his brother into a much more suitable form. Although not quite as well-crafted as his own illusion. Thor still looks more or less like himself, but in drag.

"How do I look?" The Odinson asks, giving a twirl. "Am I pretty?"

"Ravishing." Through Sif's lips, Loki grins at his mischief.

Biting his bottom lip, the Trickster sucks in a giggle. All of a sudden he's so positively _positive_. His mood's turned right around. The thought of seeing Sigyn again, and maybe even bringing her home, he's so incredibly excited.

This has to be the best idea ever!

"Alright then," Thor groans, "let's do this before I change my mind."

This has to be the dumbest idea ever. But before he has the chance to talk himself out of it, the Son of Odin grabs hold of his brother's shoulder and drags him towards the great trunk of the Tree. He then takes Loki's hand and smacks it against one of the many knots, thus accessing Yggdrasil's power.

"Best hold onto your arse." Thor cautions.

In a coquettish tone, Loki as Sif jokes, "But wouldn't you rather hold it for m- _eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee_..."

And away they fly off to Valhalla.

While the Bifrost may harness the power of Yggdrasil, tis a watered-down product, piloted by a man of sane mind. The Tree, however, cares little for its godly, yet mortal, passengers, thus hurdling them through the perils of space at warp speed. They're traveling so fast, Loki fears his skin may peel back. Yet despite their means of transportation, the branches of the World Tree take them exactly where they wish to go, which unfortunately for Thor and Loki, means dumping them right out in the middle of a nest of winged warrior women.

And boy are they angry.

With spears and swords, the Valkyrie close in around the men in disguise, who've seemingly just fallen from out of the sky.

"Who are they?" One wonders.

"What are they doing here?" Another inquires.

"Where'd they come from?"

They whisper among themselves, contemplating the fate of these would-be intruders. All the while, both Thor and Loki lay sprawled out on the ground, groaning as they attempt to roll over and back onto their feet. For the life of him, the Liesmith can't even makes heads or tails of which way is up. Forget about being trampled by a bilgsnipe. It feels as if he'd been in a drunken, knock-down, drag-out bar fight with one. And the blasted bilgsnipe won. Easily. Suddenly Odin's driving doesn't seem all that bad, considering.

"We should torture them for information." One suggests.

"I say we just kill them outright." Says another.

In the guise of Sif, Loki raises his hand, requesting permission to speak. Ever ready for battle, the women train their weapons to his throat.

"If I might make a suggestion?" The Silver Tongue grins his most Loki-esque grin despite the blade pressed against his larynx. "Take me to your leader?"

Without any warning, someone from behind throws a sack over his head. Thor, too. From inside the scratchy burlap material, Loki can hear the muffled shouting of his brother. Then silence.

"N-Now don't be hasty, ladies. You don't have to do this. Surely, we can work something out!" Loki begins to panic, working his silver tongue overtime in the hopes of getting out of this mess unharmed. Or at the very least, alive. "You can't kill me! I'm your K-"

Then something blunt hits him hard at the back of the head.

And everything goes black.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Lady Loki easter egg! At some point in the comics, Loki dies and is reborn as a woman, taking possession of Sif's body. Also, Thor in drag is a nod to mythology. When his hammer was stolen by the King of Giants, Loki dresses Thor as the bride, Freyja, in order to infiltrate** **Jotunheim and steal it back.**_


	73. The Other Side

**THE OTHER SIDE**

"Do it again!"

The crisp air calms as dawn peeks just inside the shuttered window. Wrapped up in their bed sheets, both Sigyn and Loki snuggle in after an early morning romp.

"Fine. But this is the last time." Loki grins and Sigyn nods. "I want you to say it. Say this is the last time."

"Alright, alright. Last time... No more. Promise." She groans, pinching at his side. "Now, come on. Stop stalling and just do it already!"

Raising an arm, Loki inspects the back of his hand against the backdrop of the ceiling, willing the cool, blue skin lurking just beneath the surface to appear. The Jotun-born uses his frost magic to turn the air, changing the moisture inside their tiny, paid motel room into snow. Nothing heavy, just a slight flurry, falling ever so gently on the soft furs and goose-down covers piled high atop their bed.

Sigyn tilts her head back and sticks out her tongue, catching a snowflake with child-like glee while Loki watches on. Her happiness swells his heart with joy.

This is everything, the Liesmith thinks to himself, everything he's ever wanted. Sigyn's everything he'd ever dreamed of. And she's his. All his. A happy dream come true.

Loki's mind swims with all the possibilities of what the future might hold. Summers in the country. Holidays among the stars, both near and far. A seat upon the throne of Asgard, with Sigyn as his Queen. An heir...

"Might I see?" Sigyn asks, catching his attention. He'd become so lost in his own daydreams, the Trickster hadn't realized she's been staring at him for quite some time now, awaiting a response. "Your Jotun form. Would you show me?"

Loki closes his hand into a loose fist, lowering his arm to hide it back behind his head.

"I'd rather not." He replies plain and short.

"Why not?"

"I might frighten you."

"You can't frighten me!" She laughs innocently.

"It'll ruin the mood." He switches defenses.

"Oh, I don't know." Sigyn smiles, nuzzling her nose into the sharp edges of his clavicle. "I just might find it sexy."

"Your wings are sexy." Loki chuckles anxiously, kissing at the snowflakes caught within her eyelashes. "I'm... ugly."

There's not all that much that could make the Liesmith uncomfortable, but this certainly tops the list. His Jotun heritage and everything having to do with it, skin included, is a topic to be left alone. As comfortable as he is with Sigyn, he's just not ready to lower that one wall as of yet. If ever. No matter how many statues the false King might erect of his image, tis all a front to hide his true insecurities inside.

"And what of our child?" Sigyn asks, laying herself atop him, belly to belly. "Will he be just as _ugly_ as his father?"

Loki laughs.

"Thankfully, I only count for half this equation. The other half is _you_." He smiles, gazing longingly into her pale blue eyes. "Nothing you create could ever be anything short of perfection. I have no doubt our son will be just as beautiful as his mother."

Hiding a smile, Sigyn bashfully tucks her head into his chest.

"You think I'm beautiful?" She asks, peering up at him playfully from behind a wall of golden hair.

Running his fingers through her gilded locks, Loki lovingly pushes the loose strands back and away from her face so that he can better see those smiling eyes of hers.

"Of course, Sunshine." He hums, leading her to his lips. "The most beautiful creature in all existance."

Sigyn giggles as he wraps her up inside his arms and playfully flips her over, rolling atop and trapping her beneath him.

"I love you." She smiles up at him adoringly.

"Not as much as I love you." He returns with a happy kiss.

"But if you love me so much," Sigyn whispers to his lips, "then why did you _kill_ me?"

Confused, Loki opens his eyes to spy Sigyn staring at him again, her pale blue eyes now white with death. Startled at the sight, the Liesmith tries to jump back, but he's too tangled in the sheets to escape.

"What's wrong, Lock?" She asks, her voice sounding so distant. So dead. "Don't you love me?"

Blood begins to pour from the wound in her abdomen, though she doesn't even notice. Sigyn just continues to stare at Loki with that vacant, dead expression as the blood pools all around them, up his arms and down his chest. In horror, he watches as it seeps into the furs and all the bedsheets, turning the linens from ecru to red.

In a sickly pitter-pat, the ghastly liquid spills down off the bed and onto the floor, staining the fresh snow a deep crimson.

 _Tick. Tick. Tick.._.

The bed is dripping. It's _gushing_ red...

"Can you, Loki?" Sigyn asks, her face now pale and hollow. "Can you wipe out that much red?"

In a flash of blinding white, the burlap sack is ripped off Loki's head. He nearly jumps out of his skin from the shock. Frantic, his mind panics, thinking back to Sigyn and all that blood.

The blood...

Loki looks down at his trembling hands to find there's nothing there, not even a single drop of red in sight. With a long, shaky breath, he thanks his lucky stars that it was all just a nightmare. A horrible, terrible dream.

The Liesmith's heart begins to calm, his breathing slows as he remembers where he is and why.

They're in Valhalla.

And by Gods is it beautiful.

With wonder, Loki looks out over the shining city of light. So this is it, he thinks. The _other_ side. The fabled Valhalla. Tis more beautiful than he could have ever imagined. More beautiful than Asgard, even, which is a truly remarkable feat. So remarkable, one would think it too good to be true. But a Liar knows the difference between fact and fiction. And this is _real_. Unbelievable, but real, none the less. Like he'd died and gone to Valhalla, or as the saying goes. All without the whole dying bit, of course. For the moment, at least. The day is still young.

Both Loki and Thor stand within a throne room of shimmering silver and white marble. Brighter than anything he's ever seen, it hurts his eyes to gaze upon any one spot for all too long.

Flanked by massive columns, the room looks out over the entirety of its dominion. A land returned to nature. Green with sprawling trees and all sorts of flowering plants, both great and small. Crystal obelisks dot the landscape, twinkling in the morning sun as a team of wild pegasi fly overhead.

So transfixed by the wonders all around him, Loki forgets all about his dream or of the dangers they are in. The fact that he's a prisoner has completely slipped his mind.

"Wow..." He breathes.

"Yeah." Thor shares in his amazement. Grinning, he adds, "Promise to never tell Fandral of this place."

"Noted." Loki smirks in return, thinking of all the trouble that lecherous Dashing could get himself in.

"QUIET!"

One of the guards kicks out the backs of his knees, then Thor's, forcing both brothers to kneel.

"You'll speak only when addressed." She informs them in a militant tone.

These women are different than those who had initially captured them. One can tell by their armor that they're more important somehow. Imperial guards, mayhap? They look more fierce than just your run-of-the-mill Valkyrie. If that were even a possibility. Their helmets are intimidating, much like a gladiators, hiding most of the Valkyrie's face. A symbol of their culture, perhaps. It conceals their individuality and emotion, whereas only the eyes remain. Two ice-blue orbs cold enough to send a chill up any man's spine. Any except Loki.

With ice in his veins, the Jotun turns his head to cast a chilling glare upon their Valkyrie captors. Whether he and his brother had entered their realm uninvited makes no difference, the Liesmith's pride abhors being treated this way. Like he's nothing more than common filth.

Loki kneels for no one.

On the floor beside him, Thor can only silently beg his brother not to do anything stupid, which is a commonplace for Loki. Just keep his mouth shut and comply, and maybe, just _maybe_ , they'll both make it out of this alive. This is Valhalla, after all. Home of the Valkyrie. And when visiting another person's home, it means adhering to their laws. No matter how humbling. Or humiliating.

Their house.

Their rules.

And that's all there is to it.

Someone else enters the room. Another Valkyrie, minus the helmet. Head high and assertive, her presence demands the attention of all, and her fellow Sisters give it without question. Thor grits his teeth as one of the guards pushes the butt of her sword into the back of his neck, keeping his head low and observant.

For a split second, Loki's heart leaps in excitement. Spying the golden hair from out of the corner of his eye, the Trickster _knows_ her to be Sigyn. But as she comes closer, the only thing he really knows for certain is that his eyes are playing tricks on him. She isn't Sigyn. Not even close.

Dressed in black leather and shining silver armor, this woman is every bit as fierce as either brother have been led to believe of the Valkyrie. Though beautiful, her face is unchanging. As cold and stoic as a rock. Loki wonders if she's ever smiled a day in all her life. Or laughed. Or cried... She's completely emotionless, just as Sigyn had explained it. This woman feels nothing. Which doesn't exactly bode well if Thor and Loki were banking on a plea for mercy.

"M'lady, Brunnhilde." One of the Valkyrie guards bows with respect when addressing this woman, now known as Brunnhilde. "We caught these two invaders attempting to atta-"

"Woah, woah..." Thor kindly attempts to clear the air. "We're not _invaders_. And we weren't trying to a-"

The guard presses her knee to the base of his skull, forcing the Prince into submission.

"This one here, the _ugly one_ , thought he could trick us with his crude disguise." She speaks of Thor.

The Odinson turns to his deceptive brother and narrows his eyes.

"You said I was pretty." He growls beneath his breath.

"I lied." Loki replies with the hint of a smile.

"SILENCE!"

Well, it sure seemed funny at the time.

Though Loki had been rendered unconscious, if by some miracle, somehow the Shapechanger had managed to maintain his illusion. The women think he is, in fact, still a she. While Thor, on the other hand, is not quite so lucky. Not that Loki's luck fairs any better, really. He's in just as deep as his older brother. And these women hardly seem the reasoning type.

"You have one minute to explain yourselves before I slit each of your throats." The fair-haired Brunnhilde addresses both prisoners. "Make it quick."

The guard eases up on her hold over Thor so that he can speak now more freely.

"You're right, I did attempt to trick you with these frocks." The God of Thunder bellows, acknowledging the simple dress he wears. "But you must believe me when I tell you that I'd done so for good cause."

"Meaning?"

"I am Thor, son of Odin, and I have come to you, the Valkyrie, to herald a warning." He tells them seriously. "Amora has escaped her imprisonment."

"I know who you are." Brunnhilde brushes his words aside. She hardly seems impressed. "As for Amora, we've dealt with her before and shall do so again. She's of no threat to us, nor is her traitor sister, Lorelei."

"Lorelei is dead." Loki as Sif cuts in.

"Well, that certainly is news." She replies, considering the thought whilst stroking one of her long, twintail braids. "Working as a pair in the past, the sisters had tried to destroy Valhalla and failed. With Lorelei out of the picture, what could the witch possibly seek to accomplish now that she is on her own?"

"She's not alone. Not for long, anyway." Thor insists.

"Amora doesn't wish to destroy Valhalla. She seeks to _control_ it." Loki argues. "You may think yourself safe now, but the Enchantress is more powerful than any of you can even imagine. She _will_ come for you. By conquering all the surrounding realms, she'll have the army that she needs in order to claim her victory once and for all."

"And damned be any who stand in her way." Thor adds, thinking of the town she had destroyed, Sigyn's brothers, Hel... her own _sisters_ , just to accomplish her goal.

Hands clasped behind her back, Brunnhilde glares at the pair in mild contemplation.

"And what do you propose, then?" She asks. "That we _team_ up? Join forces to take down Amora before she enslaves the entire universe?"

"AYE! That's exactly what I'm saying!" Thor exclaims eagerly. "We're strongest united."

"You're right..." With pursed lips, the Valkyrie agrees, much to the Odinson's excitement. "We _are_ strongest united."

Turning to his brother again, Thor smiles wide.

"See, what did I tell you?" The big lug celebrates, perhaps a tad bit prematurely. "And you said the Valkyrie would never listen."

Loki rolls his eyes. Why does he feel like there's a 'but' coming on?

"But..." Brunnhilde interrupts Thor's rejoicing.

Loki sighs. And there it is, he thinks to himself.

"But that 'we _'_ does not include _you_."

His bubble burst, Thor's excitement instantly fades.

"Wait... What?"

"Your father's gone. Your King's no more. He walks _our_ halls now, making him _our_ responsibility." Brunnhilde explains. "The Valkyrie have an obligation to protect this realm and all the people in it. Anything beyond that is _not_ our responsibility. Should the other realms fall? Not my problem."

Though he tries to keep a level head, Thor finds himself growing more furious by the minute. How could this woman be so cold? Sigyn was never this callous. Not even when she was busy hating Loki. Which, looking back, was actually kinda fun.

"Not your problem? Amora was _one of you_." Thor hides a growl. "Your kind failed her and now she's pissed off and taking it out on the realms. Everything she destroys, every life she takes, reflects directly back on Valhalla. She _is_ your responsibility."

Loki's legitimately surprised by how heated his brother is getting. Claiming this to be a lost cause, Thor hadn't even wanted to come to Valhalla in the first place, and now he's straight up going nose to nose with their Queen regent. As if he has a frost beast's chance in Hel of changing her mind. This woman is unswayable.

"She may not have been the one to wield the knife, but Amora is the one responsible for each of your Queen's deaths." Thor argues.

"And the one to wield the knife?" The Valkyrie asks, though the chill in her tone implies that she already knows the answer. "One of _your_ kind, descendant of Bor? Your... _brother_ , I presume?"

"Adopted." Loki manages an anxious chuckle using Sif's stolen lips.

Brunnhilde turns her attention to the Shapechanger's illusion, but says nothing, only glares. Such a look that Loki shrinks in place from the weight of it.

"We will offer you no aid." The regent announces officially, once and for all. "If Amora is any bit as powerful as you say, then your world's already lost."

"And when she's done with my world, when she's done conquering them all, then she will come for yours."

"And we will be ready for her." Brunnhilde readily returns. "You, on the other hand, you've wasted your time in coming here."

Taking a knee, the Valkyrie looks directly into the eye of the Storm God.

"Go home, Thor, son of Odin." She says fearlessly. "Go home and be with your people. Protect whatever's left."

There's a heavy moment where the two say nothing. As if having a mental game of wits, they simply stare each other down, until Brunnhilde ultimately climbs to her feet and begins to leave.

"Seriously? That's it? You're just going to walk away... Leave the realms to their own fate?" Thor rumbles. "What of the _treaty_? What of _peace_? There was a time when both our kinds wanted the same thing. You stood for unity... Unity across all realms! And what... Now you're just going to let them all _die_?"

"Aye. There was a time when we would stand and fight alongside our Aesir brothers. But now? Now there's only survival." Brunnhilde rumbles just as heatedly in return. "How DARE you bring up the treaty at a time such as this? The treaty died with our line of succession. It died with your supposed friend, who, just like your own world, you could not save."

As descendants of Brün, both Freya and Sigyn knew the rules. They knew the consequences of what might possibly happen should they interfere in the world outside the safety of their realm. Queen Freya cared for her daughter's happiness, she sought to keep her safe, and in return, she was met with a swift death. As for Sigyn, she broke just about every rule there ever was because of Loki, and paid for it with her life, as well. And yet the Valkyrie live on. Just as strong as ever, despite the loss of their figureheads. Their spirit hasn't died with them. They can still function as a whole. Unlike both Thor and Loki who are completely at a loss without the guidance and wisdom of their father.

"Too many of our Sisters have died in the name of your petty wars." Brunnhilde announces. "Today we draw a line in the sand and say NO MORE. I'll send not a single soul, neither living or dead, to fight for your cause. I'll lose no more soldiers. No more Sisters. Not on my watch."

The room echoes with her words. The very pillars quaking with the might of her strong, Valkyrie voice. Thor sets his eyes low, glaring at the clean, marble floor. Ears ringing in defeat.

"I'm sorry." Loki peeps bravely, or mayhap stupidly, stoking the already roaring fire. "I'm sorry for all the pain that Asgard has caused you and your people. But you have to believe that we've changed. We _can_ change. Odin was a testament to that. Treaty or not, our peoples _can_ still find peace. Together, we can still unite the realms as one. We _have_ to. We have to at least _try_. Because pretty soon there won't be anything to save if we do nothing but allow Amora to win."

Thor looks over at his brother, pride swelling in his chest. Maybe there's hope for the Mischief Maker, after all.

"Aye. Odin was a good man and I am sure that there are others much like him." The Valkyrie acknowledges thoughtfully. "And as a courtesy to the late King, I've allowed you the rare privilege to leave here _unharmed_. So consider yourselves lucky. He's the only reason why the pair of you are still breathing. Should we meet again, you'll not find me so generous next time. I'll be sure to tear the souls from out of your cold, dead corpses, myself."

This time she really does leave, and on her way out, Brunnhilde adds, "And take off that ridiculous dress! You're embarrassing yourself."


	74. More Than Blood

**MORE THAN BLOOD**

Humiliated, the elder Prince of Asgard tears the dress right off his body, though the size of his arms makes for more of a challenge than he had first expected.

"...embarrassing myself..." Thor grumbles low beneath his breath. " _You're_ the one who's embarrassing yourself."

Lifting the crude disguise up and over his head, the mighty one gets stuck for a moment, arms flopping awkwardly in the air as he attempts to wriggle himself free of the head hole. Loki tries his damnedest not to snicker at the sight, until finally his brother manages to escape by ripping the frilly dress in two, right up the back.

"A shame." The Trickster jests. "It really brought out the color of your eyes."

Which in turn earns the Shapechanger a glare from his brother, just before he crumples the dress into a ball and tosses the torn garment clear across the room like a child in mid tantrum.

The Valkyrie guards seem hardly impressed by his frustration, not like anyone can tell by the all-concealing helmets that they wear. The dreadful things not only keep the identities of their wearers a secret, but they make it damn near impossible to get a proper read on these rigid warrior women.

But then, of course, there's always the _swords_.

While a Valkyrie may not express much in the way of emotion, her sword makes for an excellent judge of character. Especially with their lovely pointy bits poking at the back of one's spine. Tis enough to get the message loud and clear, for sure.

"Get going." One of the armed guards orders, and together, both brothers obey. Like they have any other choice.

Weapons trained upon their captives, the Valkyrie lead them from the room and through an open courtyard where a group of younger Valkyrie have begun their morning training. With wide eyes, the girls pause from their activities. Girls not much younger than that of Sigyn's age when she was first taken to Valhalla. When she was first taken _from_ Loki.

"That was beautiful, by the way." Thor comments on his brother's speech. "What you said back there. About us working together?"

"It was a lie. I was _lying_." Loki makes up an excuse for his rather heartfelt plea. "That's what I do. I'm a _liar_ therefor I lie."

Thor looks over at his brother, even if she doesn't look much like his brother at the moment, and grins.

" _Nahh_... That came from the heart and you know it." Despite their current situation, he can still find ways to tease his younger brother, even quoting him. "We can change..."

And he has. Loki's changed significantly. He's grown into something so much more than just your common Mischief Maker. Someone far more _worthy_. Even if he, himself, cannot see his own self worth.

"Eyes forward." One of the guards jabs the butt of her sword right between Loki's ribs, causing the Trickster to double over. She then gives him a hard shove to the shoulder and growls, "MOVE IT!"

Rotating his bruised shoulder, the Shapechanger stumbles forward. Even with the female illusion that he wears, these guards have been brutal, taking an extra special shine to tormenting poor Loki in particular. One guard, specifically, the one with fair skin and a smaller build, just keeps pushing, and shoving, and poking, though Loki doesn't even have the slightest idea _why_. She couldn't possibly know that _he_ was the one responsible for the deaths of their queens. Could she?

Still, it takes just about all of his might to quell that frigid temper inside. And of course not to shove a six-foot, bloody icicle right up that tight arse...

Besides, Loki's killed enough Valkyrie for one lifetime.

"Both you and Brunnhilde were right. We should never have come here." Loki groans as the guards lead them down a brightly lit corridor. A trio of young ladies gawk as their group marches past. One even gasps at their male intruder. "This was a complete waste of time."

Everywhere the Trickster turns, he sees her face. Everything, a constant reminder of her light, now extinguished. All these young women, how innocent they look. Not yet hardened by the complexities of life and the reality of what it means to be Valkyrie. If only they can stay this way forever. If only Sigyn...

"You didn't find her, did you?" Thor whispers to his brother in disguise. When Loki doesn't answer, Thor adds, "I'm sorry."

 _You and your father cast large shadows..._

Frigga had once explained to Thor the reason why she'd shared her gifts of magic with Loki. It was in hopes that he could find a little sun for himself. That without that light, he would only turn to darkness. A sad, broken child withering in the shade of his brother's larger-than-life shadow. But Sigyn did something for him that no magic could. She was his sunshine. A little ray of light so bright the son of Odin fears what might happen to his brother's soul without it.

"I'm so sorry." Again, Thor offers his sympathy. "I know how much this meant to you."

Which is the only reason why he'd agreed to this trip in the first place.

But not without a plan.

Though it would have been nice, never were they under any false illusion that the Valkyrie would help them in their quest to defeat Amora. Thor hoped, he hoped _real_ hard, but he wasn't about to go holding his breath on a pipe dream. So while the son of Odin played distraction, doing his best to sway Brunnhilde or at the very least keep the conversation rolling, Loki was busy _elsewhere_.

Ever the loudmouth, there's a reason why his tricky brother had held that silver tongue of his for as long as he did while in the presence of Brunnhilde. Thor bought the Liesmith some time so Loki could send a batch of his slithering spies out to go snoop about Valhalla. The son of Laufey had hopes of finding his late wife, and yet the scaled little beasts found _nothing_. Meaning he _failed_. They _both_ did. And now Thor and Loki are both leaving Valhalla empty-handed.

But at least they're leaving _alive_. So that must count for something.

Right?

"Where are you taking us?" Thor turns his head to inquire.

"Keep walking." The Valkyrie at his back replies by jabbing the man with a spear, adding a touch of liveliness to his step.

Something doesn't feel right. They've been walking for well over a mile now, far beyond the beaten path. Brunnhilde did say no harm would come to them, so why does he feel as if something very strange is going on? Not to mention, stuck out like a sore thumb, he's the only man around for ages. Which, under normal circumstances, might not be so bad. A dream come true, really. One guy. A whole planet of insanely attractive ladies. You do the math. But the way that they stare... That's not lust in their eyes. Tis distrust. And hate. The future King of Asgard has never felt so unwelcome in all of his life. Not even in the foulest pits of Muspleheim.

Dressed in gleaming silver armor, bronzed skin caked in golden war paint, the Valkyrie stop from their training to observe the strange company as they pass through. Eyes trained, they grip their weapons just a little tighter.

"There's so many." Loki says to himself in amazement.

 _The system, it works. Just not for me..._

There's no doubt the Valkyrie have been busy. After the destruction of their home world, over the course of a millennium or two, they've succeeded in bringing themselves back from near extinction. The species has more than recouped their losses. Enough to build a sizable army, even. A means to protect themselves should Asgard, or any realm for that matter, ever try to harm them again.

Yet despite their army, the Sisterhood aren't the sort to seek out war, but that doesn't mean they're not _ready_ for it should war ever find them. And based on his observations, Brunnhilde wasn't kidding. They're ready. Gods help the poor soul who might be stupid enough to dare cast the first stone.

 _Imagine what you could have accomplished with the might of Valhalla backing your selfish quest for power. A single Valkyrie, even..._

These creatures are born and bred perfection. The perfect army. Unfeeling. Unyielding. Fearless, even, in the face of death. There was a time when Loki would have jumped at the chance to control such an incredible force. He would have done _anything_. Anything to get what he'd wanted. There'd be no treachery too foul. No toll too high in order to succeed. He'd be their King. Their _ruler_.

And now?

Now he can't even look these women in the eye for fear of his guilt. Now he couldn't care less for power. He couldn't care less for armies or war or even Asgard. For all Loki cares, the universe can burn today and he'd be fine with that. Because the truth of the matter is, no amount of power, no matter how great, is enough to bring her back to him.

The pair of brothers keep walking until, from out of nowhere, they hear a voice calling. A familiar voice. Much too familiar. The same that still haunts a great many of Loki's dreams to this very day.

"Thor?"

A child never forgets the sound of his mother's voice.

Both Thor and Loki quickly spin to find the smiling face of none other than Frigga. Their mother. Arms wide as if calling her son home.

"Mother!"

Never mind their Valkyrie escorts or how they might react, Thor quickly rushes over to his mother and takes her up into his arms, hugging her tighter than ever.

"You've no idea how much I've missed you." Thor holds his mother and smiles. "Every day... Every day without you..."

"I know." Frigga says warmly, returning her son's mighty hug. "I've missed you as well."

It feels like only yesterday, was it not so long ago, when she could fit her son's entire little body safe inside the palm of just one hand? Now a grown man, she can't even fit two arms around him. Time flies by much too quickly. Especially in Valhalla.

Taking a step back, the All-mother fusses over her big lug of a son as her youngest child looks on in disbelief. Not that Loki never expected his mother's soul to find peace within Valhalla. Of course he knew she was worthy. Unlike himself... But never in a million years had the Liesmith gone so far to even trick himself into believing that he would ever see her smiling eyes again. And here she is. So happy and _alive_. Like a mortal caught within the icy grip of a wintry Jotun storm, Loki stands frozen to the spot, staring.

He wants so bad to be like Thor. To have the nerve to run right up to Frigga and hug onto her, too. But then Loki remembers the last words he'd ever spoken to her. The Laufeyson had said she wasn't his mother, just before practically drawing that cursed creature a map as to where to find and kill her. Even now, Loki blames himself for her death. As with Sigyn. As with anyone he's ever known or loved. Tis all his fault, so why would his mother ever wish to see him again? Not like she could. Cloaked in Sif's likeness, there's no way Frigga would even recognize him at all.

With an outstretched arm, the Queen Mother beckons Sif to come closer.

"Well? Are you going to join us?" She asks, offering her hand.

Loki gulps down hard and takes a timid step.

"Lady Frigga?" Though terrified, the Trickster manages to speak with Sif's voice.

His entire body stiffens, shivering in emotion as she wraps her arms around him tight.

"Don't think you can fool me." The All-mother whispers in his ear. "Who do you think taught you that trick?"

Confused, Loki as Sif turns his head.

"I know my own child." Frigga grins in return. "No matter the disguise."

"Mother?" Loki breathes, tears forming in his eyes.

His mother smiles back at him before turning her attention to the Valkyrie guards.

"Might we have a moment?" She calls over to them.

To both Thor and Loki's surprise, the Valkyrie heed the late Queen's request, turning their backs to allow the trio their privacy. And just in time too, the Trickster can't keep himself together much longer.

"I'm sorry." His lip quivers. "I'm so sorry..."

Sorry for all the things he had said. For Midgard and all the mess that he's made. Sorry for being a terrible son. And for just being terrible. Loki's sorry for _everything_.

"Shh... None of that. You've nothing to be sorry for." Frigga comforts her grieving child.

Unable to hold back the tears, Loki leans himself forward to rest his head on Frigga's shoulder, crying to his mother like a child with a skinned knee. Smiling softly, she kisses the side of his head and pulls him in close.

"There, there, my love." She whispers gently, rubbing up and down his back. "Everything's going to be alright."

After the day that he's had, losing Sigyn, his father, this battle with Amora... This is exactly what the Liesmith had needed. Which just goes to show, you're never too old for a hug from mom. And she _is_ his mother. She is, despite relation or blood or all the harsh words that he'd said. Frigga is as much his family as Thor and as Odin because family is so much _more_ than blood. A lesson which Loki wishes he'd learned sooner. But at least it's not too late. This chance encounter, it feels as if the son of Laufey has been given a second chance, or third, to gain the closure he's so desperately been lacking.

 _Tell me something about yourself... Something you've never told another soul..._

"I love you, mother." Loki sniffles.

"And I love you." Frigga smiles in return. "I love you _both_."

Taking both Thor and Loki into her arms, the All-mother squeezes her boys tight.

"My babies..."

Neither son can really believe this is happening. The logistics, alone... How is this even possible? Their mother is _dead_ , so she should be a ghost or a spirit or something intangible, right? And yet here they are, holding onto one another as if their lives depend on it. Gods... She even _smells_ the same as when she was alive. It defies all reasoning.

"How've you been?" Thor asks as they break from their group hug.

"Are they treating you well?" Loki adds immediately after his brother.

"Do you like it here?"

"We can take you home."

"What of father?"

"Have you seen him?"

"Has he made it to Valhalla?"

"Is he here?"

Frigga laughs at all her sons questions.

"I'm fine! I'm fine! I get along fine." She replies happily. "As for Odin, aye, he's here, too. Your father has settled in quite nicely."

"So he made it safely to Valhalla." Thor exhales in relief. With everything else that's going on, at least that's one less thing to worry about.

"Of course." Frigga smiles softly at her son. "In fact, I was just on my way to go join him. He's holed up in the Great Hall drinking mead with all his old war buddies. Been down there for the better part of three weeks, now. Think it's about time the old man comes up for a bit of fresh air."

"Wait..." Loki asks slowly. "Did you say three... _weeks_?"

The All-mother nods.

"Aye. He's been here near a month, now." She replies, wondering why the span of time is significant. "Why?"

"Mother... Father's not been gone that long." Thor says with concern, offering his hand to her shoulder. "We've only been in Valhalla a couple hours, now. A day, at most."

Sure, they were knocked out for a bit, but it's not like they were unconscious for _that_ long. Surely they would have noticed losing track of an entire three weeks! And yet Frigga can only offer her son a look as if to say she's sorry but he's wrong. The All-mother opens her mouth to speak, but the two Valkyrie return to break up their impromtu family reunion.

"Time up!" One growls and grabs hold of Loki's arm. The other does the same with Thor. He attempts to resist, but her unusual strength overpowers him. Together, they drag both prisoners to what looks like a splinter of the World Tree.

Certainly impressive, the twig sizes up to roughly about the size of any ordinary tree, but it's nothing in comparison to the one, true Yggdrasil. Tis likely a fragment, a small portion of the original branch which had once held the realm of Heven. Salvaged material that Odin had used in creating the Valkyrie's new home of Valhalla. Just a sapling, but equally as powerful as its parent tree. And just as connected.

One guard tosses Thor to the portal and he quickly becomes absorbed into the World Tree. Gone in an instant as he travels fast through Yggdrasil's system of branches before he even has a chance to say goodbye.

Loki struggles in his captor's grip, doing his best to avoid the same fate, however useless.

"Wait! Please! Mother!" He cries out, though Frigga stays put. Hands clasped calmly in front of her, the All-mother can only watch as her child is dragged away. "Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait..."

Loki knows he's no chance against the strength of these winged she-beasts. One way or another, they're going to eject him from Valhalla. But before they do, there's still one last thing he's left to ask.

"Sigyn?" He shouts to his mother. "Havd you seen S-"

He can only fight against the tide for so long before they toss him to the portal. Then just like Thor, he too, is gone.

"Was that really necessary?"

Now that her sons are gone, Frigga directs her attention to the pair of armed Valkyrie. One removes her helmet and tucks the dreadful thing under her arm.

"Very." The sassy one with ebony skin hides a smirk. As does she hide the subtle aroma of alcohol on her breath.

"You didn't have to be so rough."

"I beg to differ." She insists before adding in an attempt to be polite, "M'lady."

The second Valkyrie stands quiet, silently observing the portal in which their two _guests_ had recently been thrown out of like so much garbage. Which was actually kinda fun. As was poking the pretender in the ribs. Serves the Liar right...

"They weren't wrong, you know." This one says quietly. The inside of her helmet makes her voice echo, like speaking into a tin can. Certainly a nuisance. How anyone can wear these things...

Sensing no further conflict, this Valkyrie sheathes her blade. The same that not ten minutes prior she had used to poke and prod a certain Trickster. Removing her helmet, she shakes out her pale-gold hair, revealing herself to be none other than Sigyn underneath. A surprise that neither Frigga nor the other Valkyrie share.

"They weren't wrong." Sigyn casually repeats herself. "Amora is one of our own. She's _our_ responsibility and so must face _our_ justice."

"And she will." Brunnhilde approaches, joining the fray. "She _will_ face our justice, but only on _our_ turf. Just because they aren't wrong, doesn't make them right. The fate of the other realms are not our responsibility. I'll lose no more Sisters in this war in which these _men_ have made."

"And you won't have to."

"My Queen?" The unnamed Valkyrie inquires.

"Queen... The title of Queen is reserved for my mother. And of course _you_ , Lady Frigga." Sigyn shares a smile with her mother-in-law. "But for me? I guess Amora was right about something after all. I was never cut out to be Queen. I guess I just never really _wanted_ it. The title wasn't meant for me. Not like how it was meant for _you_ , Brunnhilde."

Even with her stoic features, tis plain to see the shock within her eyes.

"Me?" Brunnhilde ponders. "I don't understand. I'd thought that you'd returned to us. That you'd returned _home_."

Sigyn shakes her head.

"My home lies elsewhere." She says softly, gazing longingly at the empty portal. "I'd only returned to say my goodbyes. And to say thanks."

Without any prompting, the late Queen reaches out and throws her arms around Brunnhilde, bringing the frigid Valkyrie into an embrace. The Lady Frigga chuckles quietly at the exchange, how awkward Brunnhilde looks while wrapped up in a hug. Petrified, the poor woman doesn't know what to do with her arms. To say the least, she's not much experienced in the art of affection.

"You've been more of a queen than I ever was." Sigyn says proudly, thanking her dear friend and fellow Sister in arms. "You don't need me. You never have."

Royal blood or not, Brunnhilde was always the right person for the job. While the throne sat empty, she had been appointed to lead their people down the right and noble path. And she did, without falter. Within her heart, Brunnhilde carries the weight of all their people. She always has and always will. And Sigyn has no doubt that the Valkyrie will continue to thrive because of her, through her lead.

"What will you do now?" The second Valkyrie wonders as Sigyn releases Hilde of her hug. With a slight blush, the newly appointed Valkyrie looks away as if to hide a bashful little smile.

"I leave Valhalla to you." Sigyn replies, acknowledging all three within the group. "You're responsible for protecting our people."

She then looks back at the portal.

 _My mother died thinking I'd hated her..._

Sigyn didn't have to lead both Thor and Loki to their mother. But she did. Because it was the right thing to do. Because in the end, family is the one true thing that really matters. And while the Valkyrie are indeed her family, they're not the only one.

"I'm responsible for my sister." Sigyn continues with confidence.

In Valhalla Sigyn's soul is safe. Lost within the pages of time, she is as alive as she will ever be again. Alive to drink and be merry and to live out the rest of eternity in a state of drunken bliss. But out there... By leaving Valhalla, it means her soul may never return here. She might never know true peace. Not ever again. Lost to wander. Forever. To endure a fate far worse than death.

And she's fine with that.

"Leave Amora to me."

* * *

Meanwhile, back at the World Tree, both Thor and Loki fall from the height of Valhalla's broken branches to find themselves laid out flat at Yggdrasil's roots. Writhing in pain, one would think the brothers should be getting quite used to this mode of transportation by now. Not that it hurts any less. At this point, even their bruises have bruises.

Groaning, Loki stands and realigns his spine.

Though optimism hardly suits him, seeing his mother again has given the Liesmith newfound hope. Even though Frigga might be dead in the literal sense, her soul still lives on. Loki was still able to speak to her and to hold her. He can't explain the _how,_ how such a thing is even possible, but the how hardly seems to matter at the moment. All that really matters is that Frigga _exists_. In some way, shape, and form she's _alive_. And if _she's_ alive, then the same must be said of Sigyn. Maybe not in Valhalla, but his wife has to be _somewhere_. He just has to keep looking. Planet by planet, if he has to. For however long it might take. He...

"Loki!" Thor catches his brother's attention.

The Liesmith looks over to catch the rightful son of Odin glancing up into the branches of the World Tree. Just one look and he's completely forgotten his entire train of thought. It dies along with all the stars up above.

"By the Gods..." Loki gapes.

The heavens... They're on fire.

The realms are burning.

"I... I don't understand." Thor stares in disbelief at the war-ridden worlds. "How long were we away?"

 _Valhalla is a land that exists outside the pages of time. It is not bound by the natural laws of progression._

Sigyn's words swirl round and round the Trickster's head.

 _A day can verily feel like a century. And a century..._

"...but a day." Loki finishes his thought aloud, staring in horror at the charred remains of what was once his home.

They've been gone but a day and so much has changed. During the time they've been away, Amora not only went to war with the realms.

She won.


	75. A Fate Worse Than Death

**A FATE WORSE THAN DEATH**

"He really does love you..."

.

.

12 HOURS AGO

.

THREE WEEKS BEFORE AMORA'S WAR ACROSS THE REALMS

.

.

Inhaling sharply, Sigyn wakes with a start, gasping for air as if she'd been held underwater. Swallowed by the sea, she's been holding her breath for ages.

Coughing, she sits upright abruptly. Clutching at her chest as she tries to remind her lungs how to function.

"Where..."

Her head feels so fuzzy, unable to focus. Like her mind sits in limbo amid two very separate worlds. Drifting in and out between the land of wake and the other of dreams. A realm of quiet nighttime slumber, not much unlike the womb. Safe and warm, she could have curled up inside the vast nothingness and closed her eyes forever.

"Where am..."

For a moment Sigyn was one with everything. She was at peace. But then that moment shifts and the dream disappears into reality.

And she remembers.

She remembers _everything_.

Her hands shoot to her abdomen, instantly recalling her wound. Expecting the worst, she tilts her head down but is instead met with nothing. No blood nor guts. Not even a scratch. Just... _nothing_.

"Huh..."

There's a strange muddled confusion for a moment before her breathing begins to calm. In fact, Sigyn realizes, she's not even breathing at all.

"I'm... dead."

"Aye." A woman's voice chimes in from somewhere near. "As a doornail."

Realizing she's not alone, Sigyn spins her head around in search of the owner to said voice. Though familiar, she can't quite put her finger on it. Like she'd heard it in her dream once, which now feels like so very long ago.

"I could never quite figure that one out, though." The voice carries on. Sigyn strains her eyes in the darkness to see. "How a doornail could be dead if it were never alive to begin with."

Hidden in the corner of the cavern, Lorelei sits perched in the snow. Watching.

"You!" Sigyn growls as she springs to her feet, ready for combat.

Teeth grit and weapon drawn, she charges her sister. Lorelei, however, doesn't put up a fight. She doesn't even try. The formerly known Seductress hasn't the will.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you!" The Valkyrie shouts furiously.

Pinning Lorelei against the wall, Sigyn holds the sword up to her sister's throat.

"I'm sorry!" Hands raised, her lesser pleads for mercy. "I'm sorry!"

"SORRY!?" Sigyn cries. "Sorry's just not good enough!"

Lorelei instinctively winces as the blade scrapes against her skin. Shrinking further into the corner, she anxiously offers her sister a smile.

"Then mayhap you'd settle for..." She gulps. "...because I'm already dead?"

Sigyn pauses for a moment. Damn, she thinks. However dim-witted, Lorelei's got a point, there. Hard as she try, one can't kill what's already dead.

Sure, there's several other things Sigyn can do to her. Horrible, terrible things. Tearing her eternal soul to shreds, for starters. But what would be the point of that? What does she have to _gain_ from completely obliterating a soul that refuses to fight for its life. Or _afterlife_ , for that matter. And just look at her. Such a pitiful sight on her knees. Pleading. Sigyn can't end such a sorry creature. There's just no honor in it. Even if Lorelei is partly to blame for her untimely demise.

"What are you doing here?" Sigyn groans, returning her sword to its scabbard.

"I already told you." Lorelei looks at her oddly. "I'm dead."

"Aye, but what are you doing _here_?"

Dead or not, it's not as if Lorelei's bound to this place. She's free now. Free of Amora's tyranny. Free to roam and to wander. To do... _well_... whatever it is that ghosts do, Sigyn supposes. Those who have no realm in which to claim their soul. But the smile fades from off Lorelei's face. She looks down at the ground, biting at the inside of her cheek as if too afraid to answer. Or maybe just too plain _afraid_.

"Because I've nowhere else to go." She replies meekly, ashamed of herself. "Same as you."

She looks so weak. So lonely. Now that she hasn't Amora to tell her what to do anymore, Lorelei's like a ship without an anchor, adrift upon the sea. She's so completely lost without her.

"Nay..." Sigyn counters, turning away from her sister. "I've somewhere I need to be."

Unlike Lorelei, Sigyn still has her anchor to this world. Sitting in the center of the room, covered in blood, Loki clutches her cold, dead body to his, pleading for Sigyn to wake.

"Please... Please! Oh, Gods!" He begs. "Just open your eyes, Sigyn! Please..."

But the Gods do not answer.

Not to him.

"Come back! Please come back!" Holding Sigyn close, Loki sobs against her frigid skin. His icy tears trail down her cheek. "I promise you... Anything... Anything you want! I'll give it to you. I promise. Just please... please come back to me... please..."

"He really does love you." Lorelei repeats, more softly this time. "If I hadn't tricked him, he would never..."

Her voice grows quiet, falling to the background. Seeing her sister's face, how Sigyn longs for her lost love, she realizes that mayhap now might not be the best time. If ever. Besides, Sigyn already knows how her husband feels for her. His actions speak louder than any words she could possibly ever tell her.

"His pain..." Lorelei wonders. "Is that what love is? Pain?"

"Sometimes." Sigyn answers, watching as her love screams out in agony. The sound is heartbreaking. Or at least it would be if she still had a heart that's beating.

"Then... Why?" Lorelei asks. "Why go through with it?"

Is _this_ what she'd wanted? Pain? If love is nothing more than agony and pain, then Lorelei wonders why she'd ever wanted it so badly. This feeling that she'd fought, and killed, and died for. Was it worth it? Was it worth her own life and the lives of countless others, when all it ever led to was all this suffering in the end?

"Because..." Sigyn replies, taking a seat on the ground beside her husband. "Because, I don't know how else to explain it... Aye, love is painful, but tis also so much more. Tis comfort and joy and butterflies in your stomach and that feeling as if your head is drunk on honeymead and your heart might explode!"

She rests her head on his shoulder and smiles.

"Tis staying up past bedtime reading stories to one another." Sigyn says with happy tears. "Sneaking treats from the pantry. Stolen kisses. A friendship that lasted an entire lifetime."

Loki gave Sigyn such a happy and fulfilling life. Even if he may not know it, in the end, the Liar had lived up to his word. He gave her the world. All the memories she has, all those tender moments, are all because of him. Because he loved her. And she can never thank him enough for that.

"Tis the most amazing feeling knowing someone loves you. That they accept you for who you really are. No matter what." She says softly. "And when that love is gone..."

Completely devastated, Loki cries over her corpse.

Hand atop hers, the Jotun interlocks their fingers. Blue to white. Blue to white... The thin gold wedding band, his promise to her, shines brightly from in between their woven fingers.

"We were going to be happy..." He sobs until his words dissolve into an incoherent mess.

But it's never really gone, now is it.

Consumed with sorrow, he's no idea that she's sitting right beside him. That even though she's gone, she hasn't left him yet. Nor will she ever. Just as the moon is destined to forever chase the sun, so shall the light forever follow darkness. Always. Her love will _always_ be with him.

"I'm sorry." Lorelei knows it's little comfort, but still, she feels compelled to say it. She _has_ to say it. Even if she'll never be forgiven. "Really, I _am_ so very sorry."

"I know." Sigyn sighs, accepting her sister's apology.

It seems so silly now to hold a grudge. They're dead, after all, so what's the point in it. Lorelei isn't her enemy. Not anymore, at least. Yes, she'd done some wicked things in her lifetime. Slept with her husband, for starters... But Loki did a fine enough job of taking care of that awful business already, seeing as Lorelei is dead and all. And besides, the Seductress was merely a pawn in this game. A mad dog set loose by her mistress, Amora. And when she was done with her, the Enchantress tossed her out into the cold like she was nothing to her. Nothing, at all.

 _Does that come as a surprise?_

Hands clasped behind her back, Lorelei patiently observes both Sigyn and Loki, allowing her sister a private moment in which to say goodbye.

 _You sicken me..._

Though she honestly never held any love within her heart for the Mischief Maker, Lorelei can now admit to herself that she was always just a little bit envious of the feelings both her sister and he shared. She wanted what they had and was a fool to think that she could fake it. That a love like theirs could be forced by any magic. Stolen like so many lies.

In death, Lorelei understands that now. Watching as Loki mourns for Sigyn. His level of devotion is unlike anything Lorelei has ever known. Nor will she ever. When news of her death spreads, there'll be no tears. Not like this. Not a single soul shall mourn her. She won't be missed at all.

Maybe she's gone soft. Maybe, in death, Lorelei has finally been given a conscious. A cruel bit of irony, considering she had to die in order to grow. But watching these two, how deeply they feel for one another, it hurts her on a level she has never hurt before. She has to turn away for fear of breaking into tears again.

"I love you, Lock." Sigyn whispers to his ear, knowing Loki can't hear her, but hoping against all hope that the words will bring him comfort. That deep inside his heart, he knows. "I will always love you."

She only wishes there were something she could do to help mend his broken heart. If only she could reach out and grab him. Hold him and hug him and tell him that everything is going to be okay. Because it is.

This isn't the end, after all.

Death is only the beginning.

"I love you so... so very much."

It just hurts her so terribly to see her husband like this. So beyond broken. Maybe even beyond fixing. But as much as it hurts her to stay and watch him self-destruct, it hurts her even more so to have to leave him. Even temporarily.

Though he cannot feel her, Sigyn leans over and kisses his cheek.

"Until we meet again, my love."

Sigyn stands and Lorelei pushes herself back from the wall she'd been leaning against to come join her.

"Are you ready?" Lorelei asks.

"Aye... Just a moment." Sigyn replies, staring down at her dead self in both fascination mixed with mild horror.

Such a strange experience to see oneself from out of body. Especially when that body has perished. The deceased Sigyn is unsure how exactly she's supposed to feel or react to the sight of herself all bloodied on the floor. But there's one thing for certain.

"By Gods... Is that really what my arse looks like from this angle?" She judges.

Lorelei giggles.

"At least you have an arse." She motions towards the heap of frozen meat strewn across the floor.

"Point taken." Her half-sister acknowledges the mess which was once Lorelei's body.

But that's Loki, Sigyn supposes. Never without a flair for the dramatic in everything he does. Even murder.

And speaking of her husband, if Sigyn doesn't leave now, tis likely that she'll never. Should she dare to look back, she'll only wish to stay all the more. And she can't. For his own safety, she can't. So without further pause, wiping her eyes, Sigyn heads for the door.

"Where are you going?" Lorelei calls after.

Concerned that she'll be left behind, the Seductress follows her sister into the corridor.

"I think it's time for a family reunion." Sigyn replies as they traverse the darkened catacombs. "Don't you think?"

"You can't mean..."

"Aye."

Lorelei stops dead in her tracks.

"You're insane!"

Sigyn laughs.

"That's actually pretty funny coming from you."

"Nay! I'm serious!" Lorelei hurries to catch up. "You're insane if you're actually planning on calling upon... _you know who_."

"Is that fear?" Sigyn teases, detecting an uncharacteristic quiver in her half-sister's voice.

"Aye! As should you be afraid. Very VERY afraid!" Lorelei tags along. "There are worse things than dying, you know."

"I know." Sigyn answers, noticing how Lorelei is still following her, now even more closer than ever. "No one's asking you to come along, you know."

But then again, as Lorelei had said, she's nowhere else to go.

Together, they reach the limits of the catacombs, finding the exit to the outside world. Here, the sun shines so brightly, and yet neither woman can feel even the slightest hint of warmth. One of the effects of being dead, Sigyn supposes. That and everything is bathed in a pale, blue light. Like viewing the world from behind a pair of colored lenses. In a strange way, tis actually quite calming. Serene despite the fact the worlds are coming to an end.

"Well, well..." Once outside, Lorelei sings. "The gangs all here."

Here, they're greeted by the souls of two Einherjar. Two more lives in which Loki had ended. Which, when coupled with the fact that both Sigyn and Lorelei had also met their fates by the hands of the Trickster, this is starting to feel just a tad bit like a party. Or perhaps a 'Loki Victims Anonymous' meeting of sorts.

"I think from here we can go our separate ways." Sigyn turns to Lorelei. "Mistress Death should be along shortly to collect the souls of these slain soldiers."

"Wait..." One calls attention. "Are you saying that we're... _dead?_ "

A little late to the party, the poor man is just starting to get the big picture. Wide-eyed, he looks himself over, completely in shock over the news.

"You should go with them." Sigyn continues her conversation with Lorelei. "It'll be much safer than if you were to stay."

Staring off into the distance, past the pair of totally freaked out soldiers, Lorelei weighs in on her options. Not like she's been presented with a whole lot of choices. There's really only the two. Stay or go.

Now of course she could go. Hitch a ride to Hel along with these two bozos and enjoy the remainder of her miserable afterlife with all the other undesirable damned. It would mean an eternity of punishment. A sentence to be carried out, suitable only to all the horrible crimes she'd committed in all her wasted lifetime. Which, lets be honest, was _a lot_... Or she could stay here and endure a fate _worse_ than death. Far, FAR worse. If Sigyn's about to do what the Seductress _thinks_ she's about to do, then her sister is right. It would be a Hel of a lot safer to get the fuck out of here. Lorelei would gladly take an eternity in Hel over the possibility of having to face _those_ twisted creations. Those who should never be named.

"Did you mean what you said?" Lorelei asks, her way of saying goodbye. "About Valhalla?"

She means how the Valkyrie are working to fix the sins of their dark past. How even broken creatures like herself now have a place among the divine. Lorelei can only imagine what such a place is like. A place where she could belong.

"Aye." Sigyn nods and Lorelei smiles softly, looking down at the ground as fresh tears form in her eyes once again.

"Good. That's good." She replies.

If only she had stayed. If only she had picked another path. Or to follow another sister. If only... How different things might have been.

Lorelei forces a slight chuckle. "I still say you're crazy."

 _It takes crazy to love crazy, Sunshine..._

"Then lucky for me I'm as mad as they come." Sigyn smiles softly in return.

This feels like a hugging moment, and maybe if they were closer, they would. Sadly both Sigyn and Lorelei are more like strangers than they are sisters. So without any parting words, Sigyn turns to leave, feeling the weight of Lorelei's eyes on her back as she walks straight on toward the horizon. Not even once does her estranged sister break her gaze. Not even after Sigyn fades far into the distance. Well past she is gone from sight.

Even then, Sigyn keeps walking. Far from the village. Far from the fallen souls. Far from Loki. Sigyn walks until she's absolutely positive there isn't any other creature, either living or dead, anywhere even remotely in sight. Then and only then does she stop walking. In the middle of a barren forest wrought with blight, the fallen makes her stand.

Sigyn closes her eyes. She takes a deep breath. Though her skin feels no breeze, the sound of the wind gently rustling through the stark branches brings her comfort. That and the knowledge that he's safe. That no matter what happens next, her love will live on. Even if she can't live on with him.

"I'm ready." The Valkyrie speaks to no one but herself.

However confident Sigyn is in her decision, should her plan go awry and oblivion finds her, at the very least she's made her peace. But oblivion _won't_ find her. Not today. Her soul cannot rest yet. Not until she's defeated Amora. Not until she's cleansed the worlds of her self-righteous, stuck up, bitch of a sister.

Sigyn opens her eyes and breathes out slowly.

A Valkyrie fears nothing, Sigyn tells herself. No fear, she swears, as she parts her lips to speak. No fear...

No regrets.

And just like that, she says the word. The one word in all the universe that should never, _ever_ , under any circumstance be spoken. In but a single word, Sigyn names the cursed creatures. As does she call about her doom.

"Dísir."

One word and all the sky grows black. The air begins to chill a chill so cold that even she can feel it through her ghostly flesh. Were there bones inside her body, every single one of them would be telling her to run now. Run and save herself. But running's not an option. Not for a Valkyrie.

And besides, running would only excite them for the hunt.

Gripping the handle of her sword tightly, Sigyn is determined to stand her ground. A decision which doesn't last long, though not by choice. They're upon her quicker than the girl can even prepare herself.

"I am Sigyn!" Shouting above the approaching sound of teeth gnashing, she addresses the Dísir. "Child of Valhalla!"

Shrouded in darkness, they creep in quicker than the night. Circling like a pack of wild dogs with bared teeth and clawed hands. These monsters which were once respected Valkyrie, now a dark reflection to the women these shambling husks had once resembled. Controlled only by their hunger, they've become animals. Slaves to their baser instincts. Lost to the all-consuming pit in which no sustenance could ever fill. They're more frightening than she could have ever imagined.

"Daughter of Freya!" She cries to deaf ears.

But the Dísir pay no mind to her words. They hear only their own hunger.

Missing the lower half of its face, likely eaten away, one attempts to make a go at Sigyn, lunging forward to get a nip at her with its mouthful of razor-sharp teeth. A worthy distraction. One which Sigyn unfortunately falls for.

"Granddaughter of Brü-"

Taking a step back to avoid the feral bite, Sigyn steps right inside their trap. An opportunity that the Dísir at her back is quick to snatch and grab. It wraps its bony arms around her waist and reels her in. A scream dies in Sigyn's throat as it sinks its teeth into her shoulder.

"NO! WAIT!"

At the smell of her fear, the creatures attack in an all-out feeding frenzy. Sigyn kicks and she fights, but tis no use, they drag her to the ground and begin to feast upon her soul.

"PLEASE..."

She can feel her life-force fading, slipping away into the nothingness as the cursed ones tear her astral body limb from limb. This form shouldn't be capable of feeling any pain and yet it does. Tis the worst pain imaginable. Worse than dying. And this is the end, Sigyn thinks, as she struggles and she cries out for mercy. She gave a valiant try, but this is the end of her existence.

"...stop..." With her final breath, she begs.

And surprisingly they do.

Just when Sigyn thinks it's over, that her existence is set to be consumed by the hungry maw of these insatiable beasts, they stop. Not that they heed her feeble pleas. The Dísir answer to a much higher command. One that exceeds even their endless need to feed.

"That's enough." One hollow voice decides, and the whole ungodly group scatters.

Crawling on their hands and knees, the Dísir back away, sniffing at Sigyn's haggard soul as the one in command comes forward. However mindless these creatures might be, they still know enough to show respect in the presence of their leader, lowering their heads as she approaches, their empty bellies rumbling for their unrequited meal.

Lying on her back, dying for the second time today, Sigyn glances up at the frightful woman with mangled wings glaring down at her. The walking skeleton whom all the living dead obey. This woman who despite her gruesome appearance, still looks so much like her grandmother.

"H-Hey there, Nana Brün." Sigyn swallows her nerves. "Umm... Please don't eat me?"

Then from behind her scowling grandmother, yet another form approaches. This one charred and blackened with ash.

"Child..." She growls her disappointment.

And yet despite her deformities, Sigyn recognizes that voice immediately.

"Mama?"

With an exasperated huff, Freya offers her daughter a hand up.

"Child, what did I tell you?" Freya groans from beyond the veil of the living. "Did I not warn you? I had specifically told you..."

"I know. I know." Sigyn rolls her eyes as she's helped to her feet. "That boy is nothing but trouble."

Standing face to face, Freya reaches forward to clasp the back of her daughter's neck firmly. Brimming with emotion, she looks at Sigyn with trembling dead eyes, though she hasn't the words to express how she feels. Sigyn extends her arms and wraps her mother tight.

"I know, mama." She smiles softly. "It's okay..."

A Valkyrie feels nothing.

Not pain nor fear nor guilt nor hate. Not even sorrow for the loss of one's comrade. And never, under any circumstance, should a Valkyrie _ever_ feel that _one_ emotion. That one powerful enough to transcend both life and death itself.

Love.

These tragic creatures swarming all around them are all the reason as to why. The Dísir are the price once paid for love. They paid it with their souls.

"It's okay." Sigyn hums into her mother's once sweet hair, now ash. "I love you, too."

The once great Brün comes from behind and takes both her daughter and granddaughter up inside her ghastly arms. As do the Dísir close in tight, blotting out what little sun dare shine with their deathly wings.

For all her life, Sigyn was an outcast. A halfbreed that never did fit in. Not among the Dwarves, and though they had grown to accept her, not among the Valkyrie, either. Not even among her Aesir family. Thor and Frigga and Odin... Only Loki, another outcast, could ever truly understand her. Only Loki could see.

But here, with the beaten and the broken, those who have endured far worse than anything imaginable. Here with the _monsters_... Sigyn feels something she never thought possible. Together with her fallen Sisters and the Mothers who came before her, Sigyn feels a sense of family. For the first time ever, she feels like she belongs.


	76. Lost Souls

**LOST SOULS**

"But I can't be dead." The Einherjar whines. "I've a date tonight. If I'm late, my girlfriend's gonna kill me!"

"You're tellin' me!" The second soldier groans. "My old lady already suspects me of sneaking around. If I don't show up, she'll -"

"SHUT IT!" Lorelei interrupts loudly. "The both of you."

Sitting on a rock beside the entrance to the place of her demise, the late Seductress waits impatiently for her final journey to _finally_ begin.

"Sheesh..." Chin resting in the palm of her hand, the redhead moans. "What the Hel could be taking so long?"

Not that she's at all amped up and ready to get this show on the road, to begin her eternity of torment at the hands of the one and only Queen of Hel, but then again no one ever said the afterlife would be at all quite this _boring_. Right now _anything_ would be better than having to sit here for one minute more and have to listen to _these_ two sniveling dolts. Anything at all.

Anything but _her..._

In black and green and swirling mist, Hela arrives in all her fanfare. But she's not alone.

"Amora!" Lorelei squeaks as she ducks behind the rock.

Of course, Lorelei thinks as she cowers in fear, of course it just _had_ to be her sister. The same sister who Lorelei gave her every waking moment to. Who she _lived_ for. And ultimately _died_ for. The same sister who couldn't give a rats arse about her. Who'd abandoned her to her fate. The Enchantress is back. Though Lorelei hasn't even the slightest idea as to why. Nor does she much care to stick around and find out.

Hidden from sight, Lorelei just has to wait for the right moment to flee. Quiet in hopes that Amora doesn't spot her. Because if she does... Lorelei fears that her sister might very well choose to finish the job that Loki had started. To wipe her from existence, soul and all.

"Consider what I'm offering you." From behind the rock, Lorelei overhears her sister conversing with the Queen of Hel. "A limitless supply of souls. Top shelf. Only the very best of stock. Not _this_ sorry lot..."

She speaks of the two Einherjar, the pair of soldiers who at the moment are far too terrified to be offended.

"And why _shouldn't_ you have the very best? Why should the Valkyrie have all the good and glorious while _you're_ forced to collect whatever's left? The _scraps_. Like a _dog_." Amora sells her pitch. "I say you should have your very _own_ Valkyrie. That the Valkyrie should work for _you_. You're the Queen, aren't you? So it's time to start acting like one. Let your rule reign supreme!"

Even for a Valkyrie who'd thought she'd seen it all, to Lorelei, the Goddess of Death is truly a magnificent sight. Magnificently _horrifying_.

Clad in armor as dark and vast as a starless night sky, the pale woman appears devoid of any light. And that's the very same feeling Lorelei gets whilst she spies upon her. So very cold and devoid of warmth. Like the Deathly Queen may as well be a great black hole sucking the very life from all those around her.

"And what do _you_ get from this arrangement?" Hela inquires, her spindly black horns gleaming gloriously.

The pair of soldiers cry out as their souls are harvested by the Goddess of Death. Hela does little more than open her hand to them and they come to her willingly. As if they had any choice... Their astral bodies dissolve into a glittering mist of starlight before getting sucked into her person to be carried back to Hel. Only the echo of their final screams remain.

"I'd call it more of a partnership." Amora amends.

Cold to all feeling, the Enchantress doesn't even flinch at the sight of the two deceased soldiers as they are transported away to become one with Hela's army.

"And as for what I _get..._ I get the satisfaction of watching Odin's _bitches_ having been finally put in their place. Let _them_ be the ones to beg for scraps. Tis _our_ time now." She continues. "I rule the skies above and you rule all below. You lend to me your army and in return, I shall gladly give to you all the souls in which I've felled along the way. Your ranks will swell in numbers, I assure you."

"And should you fail?" The voice of Death rings hollow.

"I don't believe in such things as failure." Amora answers plainly. "With the might of our combined forces, success is the only option. To this, you have my guarantee."

"Nothing is a guarantee." She extends. "Nothing but death."

Examining her sharp and deadly black nails for a moment, Hela contemplates this promised new world order.

Such an offer _is_ enticing. Not that Hela cares for any partnership with the Valkyrie wannabe. Nor does she share any concern for whatever plans Amora may have for the topside worlds. The fate of the realms means little to Hela. The Black Queen cares only for the future of her domain, and her domain only.

Hel, the realm of the unworthy dead. Those without glory. Not just the criminal and corrupt, but the resting place to _all_. Each and every normal, everyday, boring, run-of-the-mill variety of soul will one day find its place seated at her table. Not those good enough to dine alongside the kings and gods who flock Valhalla's Golden Halls, but all the rest. The _scraps_ , as Amora had so tastelessly put it. So while Hela's numbers may exceed those of Valhalla, her army is lacking in the same sort of quality. She's far too many foot soldiers and not enough generals. So if this _child_ can actually deliver what she says... Her very own Valkyrie. Better, stronger souls... Then Hela's army would be unstoppable. _Hel_ would be unstoppable.

"You'll have your army." Hela agrees to this silent partnership.

Even if her soldiers fall, another shall only take their place. If Amora's word is as good as she says, her army shall quadruple by daybreak. The more bloodshed, the more power in Hela's pocket. So, naturally, war is only good for business. No matter whatever side she chooses. And she needn't even lift a finger. All she need do is sit back and reap the rewards of this arrangement.

"You'll not regret this." The Enchantress bows in respect of the Goddess of Death.

"See that I don't." The Goddess sneers. "Should any learn of this agreement..."

"Who would be alive to tell?" Amora grins.

As does Hela offer the slightest hint of a smirk.

Perhaps this slithering little snake isn't so bad after all. At least she has her uses. This partnership can prove to be quite fruitful for the Queen of Hel. And by the look of things to come, this could very well shape out to be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

But should the Enchantress outlive her usefulness...

In tendrils of smoke, Hela becomes swallowed by her very own personal portal straight to Hel. Gone just the same as she came. As does the Enchantress depart. Off to begin her conquest, leaving Lorelei as the only sole witness neither woman knew was even there. Not that either of them could ever notice or care. Just another lowly foot soldier, what could Lorelei even think to accomplish that would throw a wrench into their diabolical plans? What can she do but run? Run and hide like a coward.

"What do I do? What do I do..." The dead Lorelei nibbles at her lip anxiously.

The Seductress has been replaced. Plain and simple. She's not been dead a whole day now and her sister has already upgraded to a better, _scarier_ model. Someone with the means and the power that Lorelei could only dream to control. Back when she _had_ dreams... And now? Now Amora is far too powerful for someone the likes of Lorelei to try to do anything about. So why even try?

The Enchantress has set her sights to overthrow Valhalla and lay waste to all the realms. To return Heven to its shining glory. By any and all means necessary. And she _will_ succeed. She will. No matter the cost. Because who's left to stop her? Who but lowly dead Lorelei. The _lapdog_. Just some hapless sap who followed orders to her grave.

From out of the cave, a broken Loki stumbles half-delirious out into the light. With zero thought or care, he moves forward in a daze much like a zombie. Just a tired, broken shell of a man.

And _she_ did this, Lorelei realizes. She did this to him. She did this to Sigyn. Her sister. Her _better_ sister. The sister who was nothing but kind to her. Who showed her mercy, even after all the horrible things that she'd done. So, the late Seductress decides, perhaps it is time to make it up to her. To make it up to _everyone_. To show the worlds that Lorelei is not just some spineless soldier following orders. That she can be a hero, too.

No matter the cost.

But first, she wonders, who would listen? As a ghost, tis not like Lorelei has a whole lot of options as far as those who would heed her warnings, much less even _hear_ her. Alone, she is weak. Just one of many in a sea of lost souls. But if she were able to find others like her... If she could come together with a group, find strength in numbers... Then maybe she'll have a shot at kicking Amora's arse, yet!

Lorelei looks over her shoulder towards the horizon, the same direction which Sigyn was walking not more than an hour earlier. Marching to her likely doom, no less, at the ungodly maw of those who should never be named. Those cursed creations which were once their predecessors, now monsters with an unsavory appetite for flesh and blood and tasty souls who wander all alone. And should she leave now, there's a chance she may actually be able to catch up to her. Catch up only to suffer in the same fate as Sigyn. Lorelei shudders to think what sort of fate that might be. If the stories she'd been fed as a child are even slightly close to being true, she really doesn't want to know.

But enough scaring herself...

She takes one last look at Loki, wandering in the complete opposite direction on his way back into town. He, in search of his very own family. One better than himself. His brother who will help him see this through. Who will always be there for him. Through thick and thin. No matter the cost.

Two very separate paths, she thinks. One of life and the other of death. Even for those like herself who're no longer of the living. Lorelei only hopes that she's chosen her path well. That for the first time in her life of bad choices and even worse decisions, that she's done the right thing. Even if it means her road will come to an ultimate end. And likely very soon.

"This is crazy." Lorelei sets her sights on the road ahead. "Absolutely crazy."

She sets one foot in front of the other and begins walking down the line.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Gahhh... Sorry it's taken me so long to update. Between summer vacation and taking the kids to this and that and work and family trips and construction on the house and... Okay... You know what? There's no excuses. I've failed you. I don't deserve your love. It's not you, it's me. But I promise to make it up to you. Really. Swear to all the Gods within Valhalla. No seriously. Would I lie to you? I'll try to do better and update more often. Promise. xoxo**_


	77. Means To An End

**MEANS TO AN END**

* * *

NOW

AT THE BASE OF THE WORLD TREE

* * *

Screams echo in the distance. Though they're roughly about a couple or so hundred light years away, Thor can hear them. He can hear each and every voice. Every mother calling for her child lost to the violence. Every soldier shouting for salvation from this war. Everyone. All the worlds scream as one, demanding a hero. A champion to rise up and free them from this horror. And here, in the center of all the known universe, Thor listens. The God of Storms heeds their prayers.

"We... We need to go, Loki." Thor tears his eyes from the sky ablaze to address his grieving brother. "We need to find Amora and end this madness. We need to fight-"

"YOU need to fight." Loki corrects him. "I needn't do anything of the sort."

"But, Loki, the worlds..."

"Are burning." Again, he finished Thor's sentence. "Aye. I can _see_ that."

As can he hear the same screams as his brother, and yet the Mischief God does nothing. Nothing but sit on his obstinate arse and contemplate where to venture next. As Brunnhilde would say...

"Not my problem." Loki dismisses, staring into the bright green ball of magic that he's conjured. A tracking spell of sorts. Though he's still not quite figured out how one would locate a missing soul, exactly. Maybe if he were to somehow bounce the spell off Sigyn's body, there's a good possibility that both her astral and physical forms are still connected...

"How can you sit there and tell me this isn't your problem?" Thor argues as a star shatters overhead, its fragments reaching far into the cosmos. "That's our _home_ , brother! Our people!"

" _Your_ home. _Your_ people." Loki corrects him once more. "My home is with Sigyn. And when I find her-"

"You'll do what, exactly?" Thor wonders, aggravated at his brothers apathy. "Where will you go, Loki? Where would the two of you live that isn't already ravaged by Amora's rule?"

Loki doesn't answer, but returns to his scrying. Turning away, Thor shakes his head with disappointment. This argument is useless.

"How could Sigyn ever love such a coward?" Thor grumbles.

The magic orb instantly disperses from the palm of Loki's hand.

"You take that back." The Jotun glares at his brother with ominous eyes.

"She's GONE, Loki!" Thor shouts, tossing his arms in the air to emphasis his frustration. "I'm sorry, but she's gone."

He's done everything his brother has wanted, even risked his own neck in traveling to Valhalla, but the Son of Odin is through playing nice. He's done handling his brother with kid gloves, afraid that his fragile state might cause the Liesmith to break at any moment. Tis time Loki wakes up and faces the truth behind all the lies he's been feeding himself. Sigyn is _gone_. She's gone and she's never coming back.

"I loved her too, you know." Thor continues, trying now to calm himself. "But you have to realize that she's dead, Loki. And there's nothing you can do to change that."

Loki's not the only one in mourning. Thor has suffered the same loss as his brother, losing both his friend and his father in such a short span of time. He's lost _everything_. Even his home sits in peril should he do nothing to stop it. Which is all the more reason why he has to _fight_. To push all those feelings he's got bottled up aside and fight on past the pain if he ever hopes to see the sun rise over Asgard again.

"Take it back..."

But Loki cares not for Thor's pain. Still hung up on his brother's remark of him being a coward, the Jotun growls with glowing red eyes.

"But we're still here. We're _alive_. These people are alive, Loki, and they need us." Thor insists. "They need _you_."

Thor may have lost both Sigyn and Odin, but he'll be damned if he loses Asgard, as well. He'll be damned if he loses his brother again. His brother who he's completely oblivious to the fact is growing more and more upset by the second.

"You need to pick yourself up and move _forward_ , Loki." Thor goes on, mayhap just a little too long. "Stop living in the past and move on towards the fut-"

"TAKE IT BACK!" Loki screams at the top of his lungs.

Springing up from his seat, Loki lunges for Thor. The Trickster catches his brother off guard and the two go tumbling to the forest floor.

Punching wildly, Loki gets one good hit in. Then another. He lands a strong left hook to the side of Thor's face before the surprise wears off and the Storm God enters the fight. The Son of Odin swings away with his mighty fists and the two go at it like a couple of delinquent children in the fields after class. Fighting raw and dirty as they roll about the base of the World Tree, getting in cheap shots whenever they can.

Ever one for the shadows, bare-knuckle brawling is hardly Loki's more intricate style, and yet it feels so good to just hit something, or better yet, _someone_. There's something quite satisfying about punching Thor square in the kidneys. That lovely painful sound he makes... Just before his brother returns with a blow to Loki's already bruised, and quite possibly broken, ribs.

 _Have you ever put any thought into what would happen to your soul when you die?_

With each hit, Loki can hear Sigyn's voice. Her sweet song calling him home.

 _I mean, should you actually die for real?_

Stars explode behind his eyes. Silver and blue little pops of electricity as both he and Thor square off. The Dark Prince can't say that he's never wanted to do this. Hel, he's dreamed of what fun knocking Thor's block off would be for near _centuries_. But this? This right now? This isn't fun. This is _pain_. All Loki's pain made manifest, raw and risen to the surface in a manner of torn knuckles and bloodied fists. And as the fight escalates and Thor reaches for his hammer, Loki realizes something. An epiphany which becomes all too strikingly clear.

 _Because I'll tell you this, tis not Valhalla where you're headed.._.

To find Sigyn, Loki knows exactly where he needs to venture next. He knows exactly what he needs to do.

The air fills with electricity as Mjolnir joins with Thor's hand. The God of Thunder raises his fist, hammer high toward the heavens as Loki lays beaten beneath him. Beaten, broken, and ready to die.

"Do it." Loki goads his brother, staring him square in the eye. "Do it!"

Ready to bring the hammer down, Thor's hand trembles from the weight. His heart thunders with pure adrenaline, prepared to end this fight once and for all.

"DO IT!" Again Loki shouts at him, eyes red and filled with tears. "Just do it already and KILL ME!"

Hammer in hand, Thor hesitates, staring down at his brother pinned beneath him.

"Kill me..." Loki begs, his screams becoming mere whimpers. "Please... Please, brother. Just kill me..."

With a hard thud, Thor lays the hammer down beside him and rolls off his brother. Each as bruised and cut up as the other, they rest together side by side in the tall, billowy grass. Just laying on their backs, staring up into the burning cosmos above.

"I'm not going to kill you, you moron." Thor breathes heavily.

"And why not?" Loki asks, panting equally as heavy as Thor. "Have I not given you enough reason over the years? You're the Avenger, so _avenge_. Avenge Midgard. Avenge Sigyn. Mother. Father... Avenge them all and do me in already. You have that right."

"Is that what this is about?" Thor winces in pain as he turns to face his brother. "You think you're the one responsible for Sigyn's death?"

Loki says nothing but stares at the sky as a star explodes overhead.

Of course he's the one responsible for his late wife's death. He held the knife. He made the deal. Loki doesn't think, he _knows_ he's to blame. And there's nothing Thor can say that can make him think otherwise.

"Every second without her is misery." Is all Loki can bring himself to say. "In that one moment... I wished I could die alongside her. I'd rather die than live separate from her, brother."

For a moment Thor is silent. But only for a moment.

"Seriously?" The Odinson groans. Using his hammer as a crutch, he climbs his way back to his feet.

For the life of him, he cannot remember the last time when both he and his brother had gone at it like that. Probably back when they were small children. Probably over Sigyn, then, too.

"You're seriously going to lie there and tell me you wish to die." Thor bellows. "YOU. Loki. The same Loki who would sell out his own brother, and has done so on more than one occasion, just to save his own arse. Who would do anything, ANYTHING, it takes to survive. NOW you wish to die? Now..."

How many times now has the Trickster cheated death? How many times has Thor grieved for his brother only to find that his snake of a sibling had slithered his way back into the land of the living once again? Surviving may come naturally to the Son of Laufey, but _dying?_ That is an all too tricky game that even he knows not how to play.

"Thor, you don't understand." Loki groans. Nor has he the patience to explain it to his brother. To explain that he cannot go on living without his love's light.

As far as Loki is concerned, what's the point in fighting when the world's already over. It ended the moment Sigyn died. As for everything else, it doesn't matter.

"You're right, Loki, I don't understand." Thor replies. "And neither would Sigyn."

The God of Storms glares down at his brother.

"You think this is what she would have wanted?" Thor asks him. "For you to sit here feeling sorry for yourself? All the while the heavens burn away?"

Loki returns Thor's steely glare with ice.

"Nay. She would have wanted to be _alive_." Loki counters, cringing as his body becomes aware of his wounds. "Alive and happy in our quaint little house with our quaint little lives, where we could hunt and fish and raise our children in _peace!_ Sigyn never wanted for much but she certainly never wanted for me to KILL her! She never wanted for me to... to..."

Become a monster.

This is all Loki's fault and he knows that. The stars are burning because of _him_. Because he set those witches free to wreak their havoc upon the worlds. To ruin the lives of countless others, along with his own. He may as well have been the one to set the skies ablaze. Just as he was the one to wield the blade that felled her, that murdered the very last pure and good fragment of his blackened soul.

"I need to set this right, Thor." Loki stares down at his bleeding hands. Though he knows the blood is his own, he still sees it as hers.

"Then let's do it." His brother replies in a kind voice. "Let's go make things right."

He offers Loki his hand.

"We start by taking down Amora." Thor continues with confidence, as if he truly believes that what he says is absolute. That accomplishing such a task is just as simple as speaking the words aloud. "What say you, brother? Shall we go _avenge_?"

Neither accepting nor denying, Loki stares at his brother's outstretched hand. His invitation.

"We're strongest _together_." Thor jokes, playing upon Loki's own heartfelt words as he offers his adopted brother a much assuring smile.

"I did say that. Didn't I..." Loki sighs.

There's something infectious about that smile of his. No matter how dour, Loki could never deny Thor of its powers of persuasion. Even when their were younger. Though he'd pretended not to notice, always playing the jaded baby brother, the selfish self-righteous _arsehole_ , in truth that stupid arse smile on that stupid arse face of his had admittedly gotten Loki though some of the darkest times in his life. Just as it has now

 _I'd rather be a good man than a great king..._

And he is a good man. He is. Looking at that smile now makes Loki realize just how much he's really going to miss his brother once he's gone. The big idiot...

With a roll of the eyes, the Liesmith relents.

"Fine. Together." He agrees, grabbing hold of Thor's arm to help pull himself up. "But only if we do things _my_ way. Which means we _kill_ the Enchantress. No trial. No jury. Only execution. When we find her, we _end_ her madness once and for all. And I'm going to be the one to do it. I'll not have you stop me."

"Nor will I try, brother." Thor agrees without question.

"And once we've finished, don't forget you still owe me that favor." Loki reminds.

"Within _reason_." Thor tacks on, reminding his brother of their deal.

"Of course." Loki acknowledges. "I haven't forgotten."

"Nor have I."

As much as Thor doesn't care to find himself obliged to Loki's debt, it was the only way he could coerce his brother into tagging along on this little adventure. After the sorry state that he had found the Trickster in, Thor would have said anything, made any promise, just to make his brother smile again. Even just a little. He only hopes he doesn't live to regret his decision.

"Thank you, brother." Loki offers Thor a small smile.

But for now, any price to be paid seems worth it. Tis only a means to an end.

"Of course." Thor returns, patting his brother on the shoulder. "Think nothing of it."

And so with revenge coursing through his veins, Loki transforms himself, upgrading his appearance with little more than a thought from travesty to triumphant. As does Thor. Even donning his shining helmet as he prepares for the battle ahead.

"Chicken." Loki grins, making fun of the wings atop his brothers head. The sign of the Valkyrie.

"Cow." Thor smirks in return, earning a small chuckle from Loki.

Together, side by side, both brothers look on towards the stars ahead.

"So, where shall we go next?" Loki asks, his golden horns gleaming.

All they need do is follow the screams.

"Home." Thor replies, staring straight on through the night. "We're going home, brother."

"Right." Loki agrees, staring up into the burning skies above. "Home..."

Hammer in hand and ready to bring the fight to Amora, Thor leads the way back towards the portal with Loki trailing but a few steps behind.

"Soon, Sunshine. I'll see you soon." Loki says quietly to the wind, marveling at the explosive display of lights overhead. "Just you wait. I'm coming home."


	78. Into The Fire

**INTO THE FIRE**

War explodes all around them. From the moment they step through the portal to the second their feet touch down on Aesir soil, the stench of death is everywhere, enveloping both Thor and Loki like a nightmare.

What once was such a magnificent realm, covered in lush green trees, more ancient than many a star in the sky, and wrapped up in shimmering gold, is now laid to waste. Fire scorches the landscape a terrible crimson and great, black, billowing smoke chokes the once azure skies.

A mound of bodies blanket the Bifrost. Among the slain lay women and children. Civilians. Those with no capacity to fight. Families who had tried to flee the battlefield for the safety of their loved ones, only to be met with a swift death.

Sadly, Death does not discriminate. Her icy grip cares not for age nor gender. In the end, she takes us all. Just as she has taken this unfortunate lot. Stacked high, their corpses now act as a warning to all who may try to leave this broken kingdom, just as they had tried and failed as well. But to Thor, this gruesome sight means something else entirely. The message rings but all too clear. Tis not a warning, but a call to _war_. And he will gladly meet her on the field of battle, if not for himself, then for the sake of his people. He will bleed Amora for her crimes. For that, he is certain.

"Umm... Thor?" Loki tries to get his brother's attention. "B-Brother? We should... We should move. _Now_. Like _right_ now!"

The Son of Odin turns to spy a great fiery boulder catapulting through the sky right towards them. Both he and Loki jump out of the way just in time to see it smash into the heap of bodies. It collides with such force that it sends the dead flying everywhere.

"Son of a..."

But there's no time to rest yet. Rising up from the ground, Loki gapes as a fleet of longships take to the sky, their laser cannons aimed true.

"RUN!" Thor bellows as he scramble to his feet.

Together they take off running, the ground exploding at their feet as snipers take potshots from above. Chunks of dirt and debris fly all about, pebbles whipping through the air until finally they find some form of shelter. The ground rumbles as the ships continue on overhead.

"I think Amora knows we're here." Thor tries to catch his breath.

"You think?" Loki gasps for air.

Right out of the frying pan and into the fire. They'd survived the perils of Valhalla only to be thrown into this rotten mess. And while the Trickster God may have a little bit of a death wish as of late, in no way is Loki ready to toss in his cards just quite yet. Not until he sees the life leave that evil witch's eyes. Just as he was made to see it in Sigyn's.

"They're shooting at us." Thor sticks his head out from behind the rock for a moment, only to quickly reel himself back. "Why're they shooting at us?"

"Oh I dunno..." Loki groans as he touches his side. Really he's in no shape for all this. "Maybe because they're under the Enchantress' spell."

Noticing a team of Einherjar sneaking up from behind, Loki readies his blade.

"Why don't you go ask and find out?" He instructs Thor who is more than eager to do just that.

With hammer in hand, the Prince walks right up to the small group of soldiers.

"Ho there! Good sir! Tis I. Thor. Son of Odin. Your... _umm_... well I guess your King. Technically. " Thor approaches with a friendly tone. "You can lay down your weapons now. There's no more need to fight!"

But the Einherjar don't lay down their weapons. Instead, they keep coming closer.

"I've returned." Thor continues as if he has a chance at getting through to them yet. "Together we can turn the fight on Amora. We can take Asgard back!"

Still, they advance.

"HELLO THERE!" Thor shouts, trying to gain their attention. Tis as if they can't hear him. Perhaps Loki was right. Perhaps they're under the control of that evil Enchantress. "Can't you hear me?"

But something doesn't seem right. Whatever the spell, these soldiers seem a bit _off_.

"I do not wish to harm you."

But they leave him no choice.

"Not a step closer!" He warns to no avail. "Ah, the Hel with it."

The Storm God swings his mighty hammer, except the strangest thing happens. The desired result isn't at all as expected. The Einherjar should only fall over, but instead they fall right to pieces. Like literally. In a gross spray of red, they blow apart into chunks of what were once men.

"What... the HEL!?" Thor cries, covered in a glop of sickly red slime. He raises his arms, watching as a big, sticky goober plops to the ground.

A head rolls its way to Loki, who picks it up for further examination.

"They're dead." After a brief moment, he concludes.

"YOU THINK!?"

"Nay, I mean they've been dead for a _while_." He explains, noting the grayish coloration of its skin. How the meat practically falls right off the bone. "He was dead before you... _uh_... killed him. Again."

As if thinking the same thing, both Thor and Loki turn their heads back towards the heap of bodies which had been blocking the Bifrost. Though the burning boulder had done well to obliterate a great many of the corpses, what bits and pieces are left are now wriggling about. As are the soldiers which Thor had recently pummeled. While missing the lower half of his body, one Einherjar even drags itself on his belly, dead set on completing his task of taking both brothers out.

"Ew?" Letting the head roll right out of his hands to the ground, Loki watches the stumpy creature crawl in disgust.

"This... This is beyond sick." Thor stands in horror of Amora's cruelty. "To kill these people is one thing, but to not allow them of their eternal slumber... This goes against all natural law."

Hearing a loud splattering sound, Thor spins on his heels to catch his brother stomping in the head of the slain soldier who'd been inching its way toward them. With a crunch its skull caves in easily, much like a ripe melon.

"Loki!" Thor scolds in disapproval.

Loki wipes the bottom of his boot in the grass.

"Yeah, while you were having a crisis of ethics, brother, I took the liberty in saving your morally higher-than-thy-road arse." The Trickster grimaces at the muck on his leather slacks. That stain is never going to come out... "You're welcome, by the way."

Both Thor and Loki look towards the mob of the undying which is quickly making its way towards them.

"Besides, brother. They're already dead." Loki tries to offer some sort of solace. "You can't kill what's already dead."

In a matter of seconds, the hoard is upon them. And while Thor is still a bit apprehensive to the thought of striking these poor creatures down, creatures which were once the sons and daughters of Asgard, Loki has no qualms whatsoever with doing the dirty work which must be done. In fact, he's _enjoying_ it. Tis like murder, but without all the self-loathing afterward.

"Think of it instead as if you're doing a great favor." He offers. "Put them out of their misery. Give them peace."

Whipping out his daggers, the Dark Prince sets to stabbing. Stabbing and slashing and slitting and gouging. Man, woman, soldier or otherwise, it makes no difference. There's nothing like a healthy bit of manslaughter to help clear one's head. And his is just about as tangled as they come.

"Still, seems rather disrespectful." Thor frowns, still afraid to strike back.

"Tis either them or us, brother!" Loki cries as he becomes just a tad overwhelmed. Tis more than he can handle alone.

With nothing but his blades and his wits, the Trickster God has done his best to thin the herd, but there's just too many of them. For every creature that he's felled, another seems to pop up in its place. (They just don't want to stay dead!) What he really needs is a great big thunderbolt right about now.

"Any time would be nice!"

Though Loki is fully intent on seeing Sigyn again soon, this isn't at all how he'd pictured himself bowing out. Getting torn limb from limb at the hands of an angry, _kinda_ dead mob. How completely uncivilized. Not to mention completely gross. Hardly the blaze of glory that he had hoped for.

But his brother simply isn't pulling his weight in this fight. His will to stay alive is outmatched by pure sentiment. When Thor looks at these creatures, he doesn't see the grotesque abominations that are trying to tear his freaking head off. He sees the people they once were. _His_ people. Men whom he'd fought beside. Women he had fancied. And children... Children who never even had the chance to live.

"Time to snap out of this, brother, and HELP ME!" Loki cries as he disarms a homemaker of her meat cleaver.

Noticing the longships circling back around for another assault, the Trickster's eyes widen in fright.

"THOR! LOOK OUT!"

Just as he's about to grab hold of his brother, yet another projectile flies through the air, this time aimed straight for the lead longship which had been firing at them. The cannonball collides with a loud crash followed by a grand explosion. Like a stack of dominos, the crippled ship smashes into the next one, then the next. Even from the ground, both brothers can feel the heat of the flames as they fall from the sky.

"Who..."

Once again, they're surrounded. This time not from the dead but by the living. Armed with whatever odds and ends they could get their hands on, a battalion of civilians have come to their aid. These makeshift soldiers do not hesitate in their mission. Not like Thor. Working together to get the job done. A job which is to take back their home, by any means necessary, if they have to.

The Prince marvels at what quick work these men and women make, taking out their reanimated friends and neighbors both effectively and efficiently. Tis obvious that they've been at this for quite some time now, honing their skills. But that's not the only thing to have caught the Mighty Thor's eye. Fighting alongside her people stands the object of his heart. The one and only Sif.

"Looked like you needed a hand." The Lady grins, slashing the very last zombie in two, right down the middle. (Try walking away from that!)

"So that was YOU! " Loki accuses, dusting himself off heatedly after the fight. "That was YOU shooting missiles at us!"

"You're welcome." Sif returns as she sheathes her weapon.

Clearly there's no love lost between these two.

"You're welcome? You nearly had us killed!" Loki cries.

Make no mistake, that first boulder was aimed right at them. Lucky they had spotted it in time, otherwise they'd be splat.

"And you should be thankful that I didn't." Sif answers plainly. "Though the thought did cross my mind..."

Marching herself right up to Thor, she gives the strong man a hard shove to the chest.

"And where the Hel have _you_ been?" She shouts at the Odinson angrily.

Thinking she'd be glad to see him, Thor's taken aback.

"Valhalla, actually." He replies, stroking his chest as if hurt that she'd shoved him. "I'm sorry I've been away for so long. We raced back as soon as we c-"

"Valhalla." Sif cuts right in with a laugh that says she doesn't believe him one bit. "Now I'd expect this sort of mischief from your brother, but from you..."

"He isn't lying." Loki interjects, which earns himself a steely glare from the Lady.

Hands on her hips, Sif shakes her head at the ground.

"Lie or not," She looks up at Thor, her anger melting, "tis good to see you safe."

Bridging the gap between them, Sif unexpectedly throws her arms around the Odinson. In turn, Thor wraps her up into a hug.

"Me too." He replies bashfully. "I mean... I'm glad you're safe, too."

Kicking at the dirt, Loki hides the smallest of smiles. Idly scanning the horizon as he pretends not to notice his brother and the good Lady Sif. Kissing.

And here he thought himself to be the least experienced in the hard-won art of courtship. But judging by the pitiful exchange of pleasantries, the wedded Trickster is more a master when compared to his awkward brother, Thor.

"Ughhh..." He groans, rolling his eyes sarcastically.

Sure, Loki has seen his brother with other women. _Lots_ of women. Like Jane among many others. And yet seeing Thor with Sif, there's something _different_ there. Gross. But also kinda... _cute_. Kind of right. Just like he and Sigyn once were. Just like they will be again. Cute and gross and right. And _perfect_. Perfect for each other in each and every way.

Though Loki would never tell his brother that. He'd sooner die, of course. But at least he'll die in knowing that his brother's in good hands. That's once he's gone, Thor won't be so alone. Not as long as he has Sif.

"We should return to camp before it gets dark." She pulls herself away, hiding a blush which has set into her cheeks. "These things may never tire, but we need rest."

The sun sets over Asgard as the small group continues on with their journey. A breathtaking display of rosy, violet hues painted well across the sky.

There was a time when such brilliance had once filled Thor's heart with joy and love for his realm. A fond memory as now it only seems to enhance the vibrancy of all the red stained all around them. The blood which now saturates this once so fertile land.

"There's food and fresh water. I'll have a medic check your wounds." Sif fusses over all the scrapes and bruises Thor had sustained from his tussle with Loki earlier.

"I too could use a medic." The Liesmith adds in his two cents, knowing well that Sif couldn't care less. Just as expected, she turns away without even acknowledging him.

"Come." Sif instructs Thor, and by acquaintance, his brother Loki. "Follow me."


	79. Darkest Hour

**DARKEST HOUR**

Tis black as pitch by the time our heroes arrive at their destination. Not a star dares to shine in the sky. Even the moon hides her eyes. Its pale, ghostly glow shrouded by clouds of smoke and ash.

Worn from a day filled with battle, the Lady Sif leads the brothers Thor and Loki, along with her small ragtag group of home-grown soldiers, through the mountainous terrain. Along a narrow path carved clear into the side of a cliff they carefully ascend until they find the entrance to their secret base. An old, forgotten evacuation shelter from back in the days predating even Bor.

Taller than any one Frost Giant, a great door stands proud before them. Crafted of Asgardian steel and fortified with magics untold, tis strong enough to withstand nearly any assault. But let's hope they needn't test those limits just yet.

In all his years exploring Asgard, never has Loki seen such a place. Every nook and cranny, every passage, every secret is known to the Mischief Maker. And yet this one location remains a blind spot to his mental map.

Fascinated by the discovery, the Liesmith runs his hand along the cool metal, examining the framework and the magic within. To think this stronghold had gone so long without his knowledge... No one knows this realm like Loki. No one except maybe...

"Heimdall!"

The door opens and the first face Thor spies is his friend and the trusted guardian of Asgard, Heimdall. Except for one catch. The sentry doesn't see him back. In fact, Heimdall's not seeing much of anything these days.

"Is it him?" A familiar voice rings clear. "Is it the first son of Odin?"

With clouded eyes of white, the once all-seeing guardian has been blinded. Noticing his old friend's loss of sight, the Son of Odin rushes to his aid immediately.

"Heimdall, your eyes..." Thor grabs the see-er's arm tight. "Who did this? Who's responsible? Was it Amora? When I find her, I swear to you -"

"It was me." Loki steps forward sheepishly. "I'm the one to blame for Heimdall's sight."

"What?" Thor growls, feeling himself becoming infuriated by his younger brother yet again. And just when they were starting to get along.

"I had to in order to keep my identity a secret while playing the role of Odi- _chhhh_..."

Thor reaches forward and grabs his brother by the neck.

"You said... You said you wouldn't kill me." Loki manages to choke out.

"I may have changed my mind." Thor growls as he squeezes just a little tighter.

A hush fills the room as Thor's hand lingers at Loki's throat. Silently Sif hopes that he'll snap the Trickster's neck, but to her disappointment, his grip begins to loosen. Thor lets his brother go.

This is just like his vision, the Son of Odin can't help but think. A blinded Heimdall. A world in ruin. The only thing this happy reunion is missing are the dancers. Where's the party as the whole realm falls to shit? The drunken revelry as the fabled Ragnarock arrives at their front door?

 _We are all dead._ The sentry warned him in his dream. _Can you not see..._

Clutching his neck, Loki struggles to draw in a trying breath. Thor pops his knuckles, talking himself down from wringing his brother's neck again.

For too long he's excused Loki's actions. Passing them off as cries for attention or just another harmless prank. Even New York, all those lives lost, Thor turned a blind eye, denying that his brother was solely the one to blame. But now, seeing as he's literally brought about the end of days, witnessing what his mischief has done to their friends, their people...

There are no more excuses.

Yet even still, he cannot kill him. If not because he loves him, than because killing Loki would only give the Trickster exactly what he wants. Death.

"I'm... I'm sorry." Loki pleads as Thor turns himself away.

But just because Thor cannot bring himself to end his brother's life, doesn't mean he cannot walk away.

"Come, old friend." The Odinson takes Heimdall by the arm and assists him further inside the cave. "Let us sit by the fire. Tell me everything."

Rubbing his sore throat, Loki watches as his brother turns his back on him. As does everyone else. The Aesir folk return to their previous conversations, soon forgetting that the Master of all Lies was ever even here.

"Fine." Loki says with a hoarse voice. "I'll just... I'll just stay over here then."

How lonely a place it is at the bottom. But then again, loneliness comes naturally to the Laufeyson. What he's not used to, however, is that hardened look of hatred in his elder brother's eyes. That look that says he's a _monster_. Tis the same look Loki's come to expect from everybody else. And now Thor.

Sure, Thor's been mad at him before. Disappointed. Disgusted. Irritated. Irate... You name it, he's felt it for his adopted brother, Loki. But this time is _different_. This time Loki can _feel_ it. And it hurts him. It pains him so greatly deep inside. Which is funny since there was a time, not so very long ago, when the Liesmith couldn't care less for what his brother thought of him. He couldn't care less for his brother. Now all he cares for is doing right by those he loves. And the few and far between with the nerve to love him back.

How things have changed... And him along with it.

Finding a seat close to a wall at the outskirts of the great room, Loki sits by himself, watching as the whole of Asgard, or whatever is left of it, begins to settle down after welcoming home their new guests. His eyes settle for a moment on a mother readying her child for bed, making do with what little she has after leaving their home in such a hurry. And while they may not have much, they still have each other. Their love is what keeps them together. Tis what makes them whole.

And he wants that, Loki thinks to himself. He wants that so badly. To be whole again.

"Amora has taken control of the Bifrost." Heimdall begins, eyes blank as he stares vacantly at the roaring fire. Though he cannot see it, the warmth of the flame brings him little comfort in this darkest hour. "Allowing her access to all the nine realms."

"She also possesses a magic the likes of which we've never before seen." Sif adds. "For every man we lose, Amora gains another soldier. Our numbers dwindle, all the while she grows in power more and more each day."

"The Enchantress." Heimdall grits his teeth at that evil witches name. "She uses our dead as puppets. As playthings..."

The reanimated corpses, Loki realizes. However skilled in the dark arts, there's no way that slithering sorceress has unlocked the long-fabled secret to life itself. Because that's just what it is. A _fable_. A myth. A fabrication. A _lie._ There is no spell, none strong enough at least, to resurrect the dead. Trust him. He would have tried it on Sigyn if such a thing really existed.

And given the sheer magnitude of this enchantment... Amora hasn't the reach to cast such a charm across each of the nine realms. Tis just too big for someone of her limited talents. Hel... Such a feat is too big for Loki, as well. Or any one person for that matter.

Nay... This is the work of a much stronger player. A being of near unlimited power, playing sides from just beyond the game board. A silent partner unseen within the shadows. And Loki has a very good idea as to who that player might be.

"Allies turn enemies in their final breath." Sif explains, her eyes becoming lost in the dance of flickering flames. "She's using our own loved ones against us."

Thor softly touches her shoulder, drawing the Lady back to reality.

"And we can still win this." He tells her true. "Hope is not lost. We can still take back Asgard. We can take them all back. Each and every realm."

Thor stands to address his people, hoping to offer them the inspiration they so desperately need.

"Come now. Step forward. Where be my Warriors Three?" His thick voice booms within the chamber. Like thunder it crashes and echoes throughout.

"Umm... Thor..." Sif peeps anxiously.

"Oh, what is it? Has Fandral snuck off with a young lass?" Thor grins, eyeing the crowd.

"Thor, you don't understand..."

"Volstagg off in the kitchen?"

"Thor, let me explain..."

"And Hogun." The Prince angles his head high to gain a better view. "Where's -"

"Hogun's dead, Thor." She blurts out, holding back tears. After pausing to take a deep breath, Sif adds, "They're _all_ dead. We're now all that's left."

Struck by the news, Thor slowly reclaims his seat by the fire. So that's what Sif had meant by _loved ones_. Amora has taken everyone they'd loved and turned them against their own friends. Their own family. She's taken everything.

"Then we'll just have to take them back, too." After a moment, Thor resolves softly.

Sif can't possibly even begin to understand what he means by that. Hel, she's not even sure if _he_ knows what he means half the time. But Sif looks at him, Thor, with his hand loosely clasping her own, and he smiles at her. So tender. And she can't help but smile at him, too.

"Aye. We'll take it all back. Every last bit." She agrees. "For Asgard."

"For Asgard." Thor returns, smiling.

And in chorus, the whole room responds.

"FOR ASGARD!"

All lift their arms and raise a pint. Even the children, who should already be fast asleep in bed, jump up and shout in glee. With all the excitement, how could they not? Music begins to play and for the first time in weeks, a new feeling emerges.

Hope.

Sitting at the far back, an outcast to the festivities, Loki dips his head.

"For Asgard." He too smiles softly to himself.

Sensing someone near, the Trickster quickly lifts his head to find a small child staring at him. A young girl, no older than five years of age, with two frizzy red braids and wide blue eyes. Puzzled, Loki stares back at her for a moment before realizing she has something in her hands, a small bowl of stew. Handing it to the Son of Laufey, she then quickly darts away home. He never even gets the chance to give his thanks before she returns to her large family of three sisters and four brothers, eight children in all.

Returning his attention to the food, Loki ponders whether or not he should eat. Certainly the Liar doesn't deserve the honor of their hospitality. Gods knows he doesn't. But he supposes it would be equally rude of him to not at least take a bite. And to be honest, he is rather famished. For the life of him, Loki can't remember the last time he ate. Has it been weeks or mere hours? The Liesmith cannot be sure...

His stomach growls and Loki takes a bite. Then another. The entire time wishing this were Volstagg's far superior cooking. However good, it just doesn't have the same flare. Nor will anything taste as good ever again. And when he's finished his fill, or at least enough to sustain himself for the fight ahead, Loki leaves a generous portion leftover at the bottom. His offering to the Voluminous, wherever he may roam. May his soul find Valhalla after the battle is won.

And speaking of Valhalla, as the realms continue to burn, the Valkyrie stand guarded. Safe and secure locked away in their own little world. Oblivious to the destruction all around them.

The fair-haired Brunnhilde eyes the empty throne, now hers to command. An honor generously handed to her by the late Queen, yet it still feels so strange. Like she's only keeping the seat warm for her until she returns. Though Brunnhilde knows better. Sigyn's never coming back. She's made her choice and now the fate of Valhalla falls to a new leader. Their future rests with _her_.

The Valkyrie takes her seat just as two guards enter and extend their respect.

"My Queen." They request, bowing in honor of her presence.

"Please..." Brunnhilde recoils at the word. "Please don't call me that."

Just because she's ascended in rank, doesn't make her role any different. Brunnhilde is still the same commander as she ever was, with or without the title of Queen.

"Of course, my Qu... Brunnhilde." One corrects herself.

"Aye?" Brunnhilde acknowledges her trusted sentries. "And what news do you bring? How many new souls have been harvested from the fields of battle below?"

The pair of guards glance at one another apprehensively before continuing.

"None." The other hides the trepidation in her tone.

"None?" Brunnhilde asks skeptically. Mayhap she hadn't heard correctly. "What do you mean _none_?"

The Valkyrie guard gulps.

"No new souls have been collected." The guard explains, lowering her head in shame.

This certainly is strange news. Brunnhilde inches forward in her seat.

"You mean to say that in all this fighting not a single noble soul has died?"

"Nay. Many have perished. And most gloriously with the greatest of honor, but..." She takes a deep breath. Tis not easy being the bearer of bad news. "But none have made it to Valhalla, m'lady. Their souls stay bound to their respective worlds. They obey the one known as Enchantress now."

"Enchantress..." Brunnhilde grits her teeth. So that's what that slimy traitor calls herself these days. And yet a snake by any other name is still a snake.

Thor had warned her. The Son of Odin had warned her she'd be coming for them. Amora. The Enchantress. But never in her wildest dreams had Brunnhilde stopped to think that _this_ is how that bloody asp would strike. That Amora would sink so low as to steal souls from their rightful resting place in Valhalla.

She's building an army, alright. And fueling it with souls. Souls which verily belong to Valhalla. Stealing the Valkyrie's power right out from under them. The very lifeblood of their fragmented realm.

"What would you have us do, Brunnhilde?"

An undying army. The likes of which none have ever seen. Well... None save Valhalla. Amora possesses an army equal in strength to anything the Valkyrie could ever throw at her. And soon, very soon, she'll be strong enough to overthrow Valhalla too. Strong enough even to build a _new_ realm. A new Heven. With herself as Queen of All. Sitting pretty in the center of all the known universe.

"What are your orders?"

Brunnhilde reclines in her seat.

Though the throne may be new to her, she has no plans on giving her seat up just yet. Not now. Not ever to that wingless witch. If the Enchantress wants a war, she'll have one. Tampering with the deceased has suddenly made things very personal. Suddenly this is very much Brunnhilde's problem.

There's no more excuses.

Mess with the souls and you mess with the wings.

"Ready the troops." The Valkyrie cries. "We're going to war with Asgard."

Meanwhile in Asgard, as Thor settles in for sleep, ready to dream his dreams of sweet victory ahead, there's one who cannot rest. For there is no rest for the wicked. Or so the saying goes.

From inside her ill-gained palace, seated in the throne that she stole, the Enchantress sets her scrying eyes upon her would-be queendom and smiles.

Given time, every soul on this floating rock will soon be hers. And when that time comes, there'll be no force great enough to stop her. Not even Valhalla.

So let them come, she grins to herself, watching through the looking glass as the rightful Sons of Asgard prepare themselves for the battle ahead. Let them fail. Because if anything is certain in this life, tis this. In the end, _death_ comes for us all.

"And then you'll be mine."

* * *

 _ **A/N: Yup. A bit of quoting from Avengers: Age of Ultron.**_

 _ **Also, didn't want to make it TOO obvious, but the little redheaded girl and her siblings are Volstagg's children. All eight of them. RIP Warriors Three.**_


	80. Red

**RED**

The realm of sleep and Loki haven't been at all the greatest of friends lately. Namely because every time he closes his eyes he sees her face. At times, smiling at him. Other times, scowling. But always covered in blood. _So much_ blood. The red dripping from his ledger, a certain someone would say. Because that's what Sigyn is now, the accumulation of his sins. A constant reminder of the happiness he had, now gone. All because of him and his stupid, stupid mischief.

Which would certainly explain why Loki hasn't been sleeping much these days. Not that their current situation has afforded them very much time in which to sleep. What with everyone trying to kill them and all.

But tonight, the Trickster slumbers, or more like passes out from sheer exhaustion. Eyes closed and belly full, Loki lays his head rather uncomfortably upon a flat rock and dozes off to dream land, not at all ready for the horrors there he'll find. Or those soon to find him.

"Hello?"

Engulfed in darkness, Loki shouts into the void. And as expected, the void provides no answer back. The nothingness grants the Trickster no comfort nor meaning, only silence. Silence and a single ray of light. So far away and faint he fears he may never reach it. But still he has to try.

"Hello there!"

Pressing forward, Loki realizes that the light is in fact a girl. A spritely little ball of energy with golden hair as bright and shining as the sun. And those eyes... Like pale-blue sapphires. So pure and innocent. Crystal-clear and filled with such light.

One look and Loki recognizes her immediately as Sigyn. Or at least the girl that he'd once known way back when he was still a lad. His first and only friend. The one and only being to have ever captured his heart.

Noticing him staring, the little girl giggles and runs off.

"I'm sorry if I frightened you." Loki calls after her. "Please don't run!"

Light as a feather, her feet pad gently. The sound of water splashing with each step echoes softly as she scampers away.

"Come back!"

And so Loki chases after her, as the moon would chase the sun. A bright beacon racing through the night and he, trailing far behind.

"Hey!"

Through the darkness and the nothingness he runs, continuing on even after the floor turns to muck and Loki finds himself wading knee-deep in an endless sea of rot. Still he searches for the light. The center of his universe. Until finally she stops running, allowing him the chance to catch up.

"Sigyn..."

They stand at opposite ends of a lake of blood. She, barely even touching the surface of the murky water, and he, practically swimming in it. Loki takes a step forward, then another, but the closer he gets, the more weighed down he becomes. With childlike wonder, the young Sigyn watches as he sinks.

"Please..."

The dirty water sloshes. Loki coughs and he sputters, trying to keep the blood clear from his mouth. And while he's completely covered in carnage, the red does not touch her back. Never. And neither can Loki. No matter how hard he tries, he cannot reach her. No matter how many bodies he piles, she's forever from his grasp.

Using those he's slain as a step up, the Son of Laufey rises further and higher, climbing desperately, but still it's not fast enough. He keeps sinking back down into the red. In fact, the more people Loki walks on, the more he only succeeds in distancing himself further from her good, pure light.

And then there's the screaming. Loud enough to wake the dead. Loki looks down to find the bodies he's trampled are still breathing, still alive as he steps on their backs. And they're not at all happy with him. Not one bit.

All those he's wronged, all those he's killed, they reach for him, too. Clawing at his legs and grabbing at his ankles, they drag him back down to the surface to drown in all the blood that he has made. The red in his ledger.

"...help..."

But still he keeps reaching. Hoping. Hoping that he'll reach salvation. But salvation is futile. Not with all this dead weight dragging him down into the red.

And as he descends, the sound of screams only gets louder. It envelops him like a nightmare, filling his head with a panic so great that Loki finds himself screaming just the same. The Liesmith cries out to the void for help. He cries out to Sigyn for forgiveness. He cries out to eternity to give him another chance. He cries to any who will listen...

But no one answers back.

And so he drowns in all his sins.

...

Gasping for air, Loki shakes himself awake.

"How did they get in?"

Drenched in a cold sweat, the Liesmith turns his head to find his brother shouting above the noise.

"They didn't." Sif answers back, noticing the barricade upon the door is still intact. But not for long. "One of the soldiers must have succumbed to his injuries in the night. We need to discard of them quick before they make more!"

And quick work they make, but not quick enough.

The whole room has erupted in a frenzy. It was only a matter of time before the dead had sniffed them out, and now they seek to turn what's left of Asgard into the next of Amora's mindless meat puppets.

With adrenaline coursing through his veins, Loki quickly realizes that this isn't a dream. Not even a bad one. This is real.

He grabs for his daggers, thankfully still latched safe inside his tunic after falling asleep with all his gear on, and readily springs to his feet, ready to assist where he may for the survival of Asgard. Because Thor was right. These _are_ his people. And now the time has come to fight for them.

Both Thor and Sif are busy handling the swarm which has amassed by the door, fighting their way through the crowd to keep the enemy from lifting the barrier and allowing their deceased brethren inside.

The only sound louder than that of all the screaming would be the banging. The heavy clanking of a battering ram as the army waiting just outside the door attempts to force their way inside. Loki rushes to aid his brother against the chaos when something catches his eye. A flash of two frizzy red pigtails makes Loki stop right in place.

Hiding behind her sisters, the little girl from the night before presses herself into the fabric of her oldest sister's skirt, trying to make herself invisible as one of the dead have turned its sights upon their merry lot. Her brothers do their best to fend off the gruesome creature, but they're terribly outmatched. And Loki should keep walking. He _knows_ he should. The main door groans under the pressure. The rocky walls crack, ready to burst as the forces outside continue their assault on their weakening defenses. Defenses which he knows _will_ fail. Tis only a matter of moments. And when the levy breaks, Loki should be at the forefront to help hold the line. To prevent all the dead from spreading and spilling inside.

The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, he reminds himself. Any king knows that.

But Loki's no king.

Right now, all he'd rather settle for would be a good man than a great king. And maybe, if he's lucky, he may verily be remembered as one.

Without another thought, Loki rushes to help the children, and taking his dagger, he runs it clean through the villains throat. Though it doesn't do much good. These things are built heartier than that. Such a blow only accomplishes getting the creature's attention. And getting Loki's blade stuck in the dead things windpipe.

Lodged deep, Loki can't pry the weapon loose, and trying only seems to tick the creature off further. Sure he could reach for his secondary blade, only to be met with the same results. But looking in the frightened girl's eyes, so big and blue and filled with such innocence, Loki knows exactly what he needs to do. In that instant he promises her, he promises himself, the Gods, and anyone who may listen, that not another life shall be lost to him. There'll be no more red in his ledger. Not today.

Forming a fist around his dagger, Loki wills his hand to turn an icy Jotun blue. He honestly doesn't even notice it happening. The process of tapping into the Frost magic within comes as naturally to him as breathing, now.

 _Loki is as Loki does..._

Mayhap it's time to come to terms with what he is. To make peace with the monster within.

 _Tis not your blood that defines you. YOU do..._

And Sigyn was right. If he didn't accept it before, then his nightmare may only have helped him to realize that the Jotun blood coursing through his veins is not to blame for his mistakes. _He_ is. All the red, all the death, is _his_ fault. _He's_ the monster. And it's bloody well time to change that.

"Only I get to write my own story." Loki growls as he freezes the foul creature where it stands.

So let's make it a good one. Perhaps it's time to start acting the hero of his tale.

More dead follow. Another and another. Each meeting the same icy fate as the one before them. And once the immediate threat has been dealt with and the children are no longer in danger, Loki kneels down to assure the little girl that she's safe.

"It's alright." He smiles at her, unaware of his red eyes and azure skin. "You can come out, now."

Loki looks like all the horrible creatures parents tell their children of at night. More frightful even than the dead things which he'd killed. But to one little girl, one small frightened child, he's her savior. He's a _hero_.

Too bad he can't basque in the moment for long. As soon as she runs up to thank him with a hug, the door comes crashing down and all Hel spills inside.

The young girl leaps into his arms and Loki's heart freezes. Felling one monster is easy, but this... this is madness. All of Asgard has come piling in through their front door.

"Heimdall!" Loki calls out to the Guardian, who despite his lack of vision, is holding his own surprisingly well in this fight. "Heimdall, please tell me you know of another way out."

The blinded Sentry delivers a finishing blow to his opponent before addressing the Trickster.

"Aye." He replies in a gruff tone, surely holding a grudge against he who had blinded him. "Why? Planning on running off?"

"Nay. Not me." Loki replies. "Them."

That's when Heimdall notices the children huddled all about the Liesmith's feet. Even without the use of his eyes, the ever-vigilant Guardian of Asgard can still see all. As can he still _hear_ all. Just as he can hear that witch Amora approaching. Despite all her black magic, Heimdall can hear her dark heart beating from miles away. Just as it's the only heart left beating in all of Asgard, save for what's left inside this room.

And save them, he will.

"No one knows this rock like you do. Take them someplace safe." Loki pleads. "Please. I beg of you. Save them."

No matter their differences, this is one thing that both the once all-seeing Guardian and the shamed Prince of Asgard can each agree on. And that's the continued survival of the heart of this realm. It's people.

"There's no need for begging." The Sentry begins as he stashes his weapon behind the tattered cape draped across his back. Coming forward, Heimdall takes the young girl from Loki's arms. "Though the desperation in your voice is certainly a welcomed sound. Music to my ears."

Heimdall may have been driven from his post, but his job is far from over yet. As a protector of this realm, tis his sworn duty to keep Asgard safe no matter the cost. And that means protecting these people with everything he's got, whether Loki begs him to or not. The Son of Laufey's not his King. He never was. The Sentry answers to a higher calling.

"You have my word." Heimdall swears. "I will keep them safe."

"Thank you." Loki extends.

"Don't thank me." The noble Sentry replies. "I'm not doing this for you."

Gathering up anyone with a pulse, Heimdall can't help but notice how different Loki sounds. How his heart beats that much heavier than the selfish, self-righteous brat he knew before. And in his own heart, Heimdall knows, as he makes his retreat with all of Asgard in tow, that this is the last they'll ever see one another again. At least in _this_ life.

And so the Sentry wishes him good luck. Good luck and may the road rise up to meet him.

May the wind be always at his back.

And may the sun shine warm upon his face.

Until we meet again.

Once the civilians are safely out of sight, Loki takes a deep breath and let's it out easy. Now with them gone he can finally let loose. Which is good, seeing as the odds are clearly not in his favor. So mayhap tis time to even those odds up a bit.

Joining the fight, Loki minds his surroundings. There's something about this cavern that just feels _off_. He'd noticed it the moment they'd arrived the night before. Something wasn't quite right.

For starters, why was this location kept under wraps for so long? Or at all? Sure it's a great evacuation shelter. Well built, too. But why the secrecy? Especially to those of the house of Odin. Much like many other dark family secrets which have only since come to light.

Judging by the age and design, Loki can only presume this stronghold was built with the intent of keeping the Angels of Heven out, or quite possibly even _imprisoning_ them. Seeing as Grandpa Bor was such an upstanding guy and all, he'd be more inclined to bet the latter.

This cavern shares a close resemblance to the room where Sigyn had been captured, and ultimately died in... Loki's reminded of the fact that she couldn't use her sonic cry for fear the whole chamber would collapse and bury them alive. And if he's lucky, mayhap this room was built with the same principles in mind. With just the right acoustics, and a little help from a certain booming brother, maybe Loki can bring this whole damned mountain down upon these monsters.

So let's get things shaking!

Loki begins by coating the walls in a thick sheet of ice.

"What in all Hel is that Mischievous devil up to?" Thor mutters aloud as he watches his brother bring the temperature of the room down to a near arctic level.

"I HAVE A PLAN!" The Mischief Maker shouts as he hops all about the spacious cavern. Dodging blow after blow from those wishing to do him harm, the Jotun-born uses his Frost magic to freeze the room solid.

A quick, strong freeze should do the trick. The frost works its magic on the hard steel and ancient stone, making these old bones of this foundation brittle. The perfect setup for the next step to Loki's plan.

"THUNDER!" Loki yells from across the room.

"Now what's he going on about?" Thor grumbles as he whaps an opponent upset the head with his hammer.

"THUNDER! WE NEED THUNDER!" Loki repeats, shouting over the loud din of battle.

"Thunder? What's he talking about thunder?" Sif says skeptically as she slays yet another foe. "Is he crazy? You do that and you're bound to bring down the entire mountain!"

"The entire mountain..." Thor realizes just what crazy plot his brother is up to. "Loki, you're a genius!"

"Genius!?" Sif cries, spinning on her heels to counter an attack. "If you unleash a storm in here, you'll kill us all!"

"EXACTLY!" Thor grins as he readies his hammer. He nods to Loki.

"This is madness!"

The Lady Sif can hardly get another word in before the God of Thunder lifts his hammer high, beckoning a storm. Thunder cracks and lightning screams across the ceiling.

In long, silver veins, electricity races up the walls. The hard ice acts like a mirror, causing the lightning to jump from reflective surface to surface all about the room.

The whole mountain rumbles. So much so that Sif nearly loses her footing as the ground beneath her feet begins to shake. Thunder resonates throughout the cavern. She can even feel it vibrating inside her bones. It feels as if the Lady's found herself inside a giant speaker of some sort, and Thor's got the volume cranked up to eleven.

The ice begins to crack with a horrifying sound. Hollow and eerie, much like glaciers splitting in the dead of winter. Great big chunks of ice and steel begin to crumble and give way. One particularly large chunk of earth drops from the ceiling and Sif knows it won't be long before the whole place falls apart.

Left and right, their foes become buried in falling debris, as will Sif if she doesn't think fast. Dodging one chunk of rubble, the Lady only succeeds in putting herself right in the path of another block of ice having become dislodged from the ceiling and plummeting fast. In fact, she'd be as good as squished if it weren't for Loki.

Crouching on the ground with her shield held above her head, Sif peers up to find the Trickster, her sworn enemy, has indeed saved her. At the very last minute, Loki cast his Jotun magic and did spare them from the storm.

Glancing around, Sif finds herself, along with the brothers, contained inside a big, hollow snow ball of sorts. Like a great, giant egg with a shell made of ice. And though a bit chilly, she's otherwise fine. So is Thor. As is Loki. The same can't be said for those outside their frost-cold magic bubble.

"Took you long enough." Thor smirks in the dark of their bubble.

Only the pale glow of Loki's green magic shines inside the dome.

"I thought it all part of being a _hero_." The Mischief God grins in return. "Waiting until the last possible second, and all."

With his cobalt-blue hands pressed to the inner wall of their igloo, Loki keeps the shield raised and the ice nice and hard as the entirety of the mountain collapses on top of them. With every clunk, Sif swears their defenses will fail, that Loki will fail, but his magic holds steady, protecting them from a most brutal end. Until finally... silence. The ground ceases to shake.

"Would you be so kind?" Extinguishing his magic, Loki presents his brother with yet another opportunity in which to use his trademark hammer.

Happy to oblige, and happy to be alive, Thor does the honors of breaking them out of their ice-cold panic room. With one mighty swing of Mjoilnir, they're free.

For the time being, at least.

Climbing out from the confines of their shattered ice capsule, our heroes are met with the one and only ever-aggravating Enchantress and her army of the dead. Standing proud atop the ruins of their once-safe safehouse, her fiendish forces have got them completely surrounded and ready to strike.


	81. Ant Boot

**ANT. BOOT.**

"Time to die." The Enchantress commands her legion of horrors to attack.

Quickly ducking behind the shattered remnants of Loki's ice shield, the trio stare in disbelief as those they'd squashed begin to crawl their way out from the debris. Even with their combined might, both Thor and Loki hadn't so much as dented Amora's army. No matter what they hit them with, including an _entire mountain_ , they just keep coming back.

"Well... Hel." Sif growls, grabbing for her weapon. "Any more bright ideas?"

It would also seem that Sif's forgotten how Loki had so graciously saved her. And not five minutes prior, too. The Lady has already gone back to hating the Liesmith's icy-cold guts.

"Please tell me you have another plan." Thor inquires, less rude than his female counterpart. "You have another plan, right?"

"Like another mountain?" Loki turns to his brother. "You want me to drop _another_ mountain on these things?"

"You can do that?" The gullible Son of Odin says with surprise.

"NAY!" Loki finds himself shouting. "I don't have another mountain, Thor!

"Then why did you say..."

"I was being sarcastic!" Loki returns. "Haven't you ever heard of sarcasm?"

"Well don't say you have a mountain if you dont have anoth-"

"BOYS!" Sif cuts right in. "Please... Bigger issue, here?"

She directs their attention to the hoard which has amassed.

"Right. Imminent death." Loki acknowledges. "So what now?"

"I need you to use your magic." Thor replies, staring down their adversaries cold and lifeless eyes.

"For what exactly?" Loki wonders. And if he says 'to conjure up another mountain'...

"You can teleport, right?" He asks, gripping his hammer, as if it would do him any good. "I need you to teleport."

Cocking his head just ever so to one side, Loki looks at his brother perplexed.

"Well, sure, but... I haven't the means to teleport us _all_."

Or the dark matter.

All his magic is good for right now, if he's lucky, would be one single ride. And one single _rider_. He simply hasn't the energy for anything otherwise. Not after the stunt he pulled with freezing up the entire cavity of this mountain range. Why, even on his very best of days, the Trickster isn't much known for teleporting about willy-nilly. Certainly not without a decisive plan. And certainly never any more cargo than just himself.

"I wasn't talking about _us_."

In unison, both Thor and Loki look to Sif at exactly the same moment.

"Oh... Nay." The Lady protests, catching wind to what those brothers are up to. "NO! You can't -"

Shutting her up, the God of Thunder presses his lips to hers.

"I love you." He says to Sif one last and final time before letting go of her completely. "Please. Remember that I love you..."

There's so much more he needs to say, but now's not the time nor place to say it. Nodding to his brother, Thor gives the signal. Then before the Lady has a chance to say otherwise, the Trickster weaves his spell and sends her off to parts unknown. Thor blinks and then she's gone.

"Thank you." The Odinson says sadly, taking a deep breath. "Thank you, brother."

They never had a chance to see what the future may have had in store for them. But while their time together was limited, their love was not. The feelings Thor had held for her were true. And he feels better in knowing that Sif's safe. Far from here and alive.

Thor looks over at his brother, and while he may say nothing, the Son of Odin knows that Loki feels exactly the same way. That if given the chance, Loki would have done just the same for Sigyn. So what does that say about him? Does that make his actions any better or worse than those of his brother's? The same man who had blinded his good friend and the sole Guardian of Asgard? Who brought the citizens of Midgard to their knees? Is he truly any better? Or mayhap both he and Loki were always more equal than either had originally thought.

Taking up their weapons, both Sons of Asgard stand to face their opposition. Loki casts his ice shield one more time.

"Just out of curiosity, where did you send Sif?" The Golden Son wonders as Amora's army collides with their defenses. "Please tell me you didn't just drop her off in some burning molten lake on Muspelheim."

"Is that really what you think of me?" Loki sounds offended. "That I would act so low as to do such a hurtful thing to your beloved?" Under his breath, he adds, "Even if she is a harpy of a woman."

Narrowing his steely gaze, Thor glares at Loki until he confesses.

"FINE! Fine... NAY! I didn't send her to a lake of fire! HAPPY!?" Loki cries, much to Thor's relief. "I sent her to Midgard where I am SURE she'll be safe."

After a tense pause, Loki adds, "I think."

Which is exactly what he should have done with Sigyn from the start. Just sent her home. Sent her someplace safe. _Anywhere_ safe as long as it was far away from him. Away from all this mess that he has made.

"So... What do we do now?" Loki asks his brother as those outside the dome continue to force their way in.

While those they face may continue on for all eternity, Loki can't keep this up much longer. With every hit they take, he can feel himself becoming weaker by the minute.

"We fight. Until our last breath, we fight." Thor replies, his eyes filled with electricity. "Even if our blows prove useless, we go down swinging!" He looks to Loki and adds, "Together."

The roof starts to cave, as do the walls. In bits of snow and melting ice, their shield begins to crumble.

"So... You're not mad?" Loki strains, struggling to keep their shield from falling down.

"Oh, don't get me wrong. I'm still plenty mad at you." Thor replies, ready to start swinging the second one of those creatures breaks through these walls. "But I suppose, if there's anyone I'd rather see the end of days with, that someone would be you."

One bony hand claws its way through the barrier, then another, picking at the holes made in Loki's defenses.

"I love you, brother." Thor says as he prepares himself for what's to come next.

"That's all I ever wanted." Loki smiles as the whole world comes undone.

Back to back, the Sons of Asgard fight against the tides. Thor with his hammer and Loki with his wits. Two brothers are all that stand between Amora and total destruction.

A bolt of lightning screams, followed by a terrifying rumbling. The Trickster summons his magic, but still tis not enough. There's just no end to Amora's endless army. How does one stop an enemy that cannot be killed?

And that's when three figures come forward. A familiar presence as they emerge from the crowd. Though distinct from all of the other countless dead, it isn't until the dust has settled does Thor realize just how familiar these three warriors actually should be.

"Fandral. Hogun. Volstagg." Thor says each of their names whilst fighting back the lump in his throat.

Seeing his old friends should be a very welcomed sight, but knowing that they've passed and how their souls are now bound to this plane whether they choose it or not, tis enough to make the Son of Odin stark-raving furious.

"Hello old friend." Hogun replies in a hollow tone.

These were once noble warriors. Great men with great spirit. The very best a man like Thor could ever hope to once call friend. How they ended up like this... These good soldiers do not deserve this fate. To have their memory perverted in such a way as to become the immortal playthings of a demented witch.

"Just a hunch, but... I don't think they've come for the conversation. " Loki leans in toward his brother.

Tis eerie how calm the field of battle has become. The dead have ceased their rampage, making way for these three of Amora's most elite. Her little pet project, so to speak.

"Hate to say it, but the Liar's right." The deceased Fandral replies. "Sorry to have to cut this reunion short but that's hardly up to us right now."

"Aye." Bellows Volstagg. "We're not exactly in control of our own bodies at the moment."

"Not that I'm entirely against the idea." The Dashing is quick to include. "But here I'd always thought that having some wicked busty wench in total control of my extremities would be a bit more... well... _fun_. Don't you agree?"

Even in death, the ever debaucherous Dashing is as suggestive as ever. Meaning, the Enchantress hasn't taken over their minds. While their actions may belong to her, their thoughts and words are entirely their own. Not that this little piece of information makes what Thor has to do next any easier. In fact, it only makes this whole ordeal all the more harder. Knowing that his friends are still indeed his friends. Even as he tries to fight them. Or as they attempt to murder him.

Hogun takes the first swing, followed by his trusty mace. Thor just barely dodges the attack when Fandral charges forward with his foil. The duo keep the sworn Prince busy while Volstagg aims himself at Loki.

"Sorry to have to do this." The Voluminous cries as he slashes with his sword. Despite his size, the fat man is surprisingly fast. "You know, over the course of these past few weeks, I've really come to like you."

"Thanks." Loki replies as he counters the attack with his daggers. "I've really come to like you, too."

Tis a cruel game the Enchantress plays. Forcing them to fight against those they'd loved.

"Which is why I'm really sorry," the Liesmith continues, "to have to do this."

His doppelgänger disappears into the ether, the illusion which Volstagg had been fighting all along, now gone. The Trickster God vanishes only to reappear directly behind the baffled Voluminous, where he stabs the jolly Warrior square in the back.

Once more, Loki uses his Frost magic to give Volstagg the deep freeze, setting the fat man inside a giant block of ice. The cold races through the corpses body, starting at the point of impact and quickly spreading to stop the Voluminous fast in his tracks.

"Thank you." Volstagg manages to speak before the freeze reaches his head. Now that his body has been made useless, the Voluminous feels more at ease knowing that he's no longer anyone's puppet to control. His strings are now his. And his alone. "I've killed... good... innocent people. She made me... There's no telling who she would have made me kill next. My family... Please... Please I do not wish for them to see me this way. End this... Promise me you'll end this... Before it's too..."

"I promise." Loki watches as Volstagg completes his transformation and turns to ice.

No one should have to endure this. To be pitted against their own friends, they're own blood. If Volstagg had continued on only to be forced by Amora to murder his very own family, his children... Only Loki knows of such horrors, having experienced them firsthand. He too knows what it's like to be a puppet. And he'll make damned sure that such a fate never happens to anyone else ever again.

And it starts by regaining control of his own strings, as well.

"AMORA!" Loki shouts above the sound of Thor's electricity cutting through the air. "Enough with the act. Why dont you come down here and face me yourself, you coward!"

Hands clean of all bloodshed, the Enchantress sits perched atop a throne of rubble, watching from her vantage like some mighty god as those of her creation spread chaos below.

"Nay. Not a coward." The Queen of this new Asgard protests. "Tis just a little ant like you is hardly even worth my boot."

 _Ant._

 _Boot._

Her words bring back memories of a certain one-eyed Director. How this man would stop at nothing to keep a bitter God from trampling his precious Midgard. His home. Just as Loki plans to protect his home now. He'll show her what the bite of one lowly ant can bring.

"Be done with them already." Amora instructs her deadly forces. "I've become bored with these lesser beings."

Watching Loki and his merry gang as they struggled may have been amusing for a while, but playing the Trickster for a fool had always been but a stepping stone in her plan. Now, like most everything else, the time has come to leave him behind in order to move on to bigger, grander schemes.

"When you've finished, hunt down any of the remaining living and dispose of them." The Enchantress reminds. "My reign must be absolute."

There was a time when Amora was slated to be crowned Queen of this land, back when old treaties were granted new life. She could have learned to love Thor and Asgard along with him. But then her wings never grew and then Sigyn was born and Loki came along and ruined everything in the blink of an eye. Her birthright was stolen by some second-rate halfbreed and a false God of true lies. So many obstacles were placed in her way, but she's learned to make peace with it by knocking them all over and carving her own path. Right through the skulls of those who stand in her way. Amora will unite the realms, alright. And she'll do so by uniting them in _death_.

In unison, the hoarde does cheer, and in unison, they all continue their attack as one.

"Thor, you have to stop us." Hogun says with urgency.

Swinging his mace, he aims for Thor's head

"Aye. Take out that evil sexy witch lady and you can end this." Fandral adds with a thrust of his blade.

Deflecting their attacks, Thor has no wish to harm his friends, even if they are dead. But deep inside he knows they're right. He has to end this. And end this now.

"Loki!" Thor shouts over to his brother who's currently doing his best to thin out the herd. "Think you have it in you for one more ice storm?"

They need to fight their way to Amora, but right now there's maybe about fifteen-hundred or so bodies standing in their way.

"I'll manage." Loki shouts back.

He's exhausted his magic, practically running on fumes, but still the Liesmith presses forward, even if it kills him. Which if fine, really. Dying. But not before that bitch, Amora, dies first.

"You know... I've always wanted to see Valhalla." Fandral expresses as he slashes away with his sword. "I think I'm really going to like it there."

"Aye... I verily think you shall." Thor tries to smile through the pain of losing his friends all over again.

This battlefield reminds the Storm God of ants. Just a dense swarm of bodies scraping and clawing their way to the front. Through the clash of weapons and the tangle of soldiers, Thor looks to Hogun to express his deepest gratitude. Even as the once great Warrior is trying to bludgeon him to death, the Son of Odin takes a moment to say his goodbyes.

"Goodbye my friend..."

May you find peace

"NOW, LOKI!"

Thor calls forth one final storm, one large enough to cover his entire field of vision. The whole sky over Asgard grows dark and black, ominous as great, billowing clouds gather quick to blot out the remaining sun. Thunder rumbles and electricity buzzes overhead. An impressive show were the Enchantress at all impressed. Not even her undead soldiers stop to take cover from the approaching storm. Throwing caution to the wind as Loki adds his own tricks to the mix.

Summoning his Frost, the Jotun-born turns the sky frigid, changing his brother's rain into ice. The once-harmless precipitation hardens to become a fleet of aimless arrows, deadly projectiles falling from the not-so-friendly skies.

The great spikes impale their would-be assassins, obliterating some where they stand while merely skewering others right to the spot. In either case, it won't keep these undead abominations down for too long. They'll just keep reanimating again and again. And again and again and again... Which is why they must cut this snake off at the head. Sever the connection between them and Amora. And now's their only chance. Their path is wide open.

Gaining momentum, the Mighty Thor swings his mighty hammer round and round then let's her fly, aimed dead center at that wicked sorceress. Mjolnir cuts through the air like a bolt of lightning, so fast and with such force that the Prince of Asgard is absolutely positive there's not a snowballs chance in Hel that she could ever dodge such a direct hit in time. But then again, she doesn't have to.

The hammer succeeds in finding its target, or more like a good three feet from its target. In a crackle of sparks, Mjolnir connects with her forcefield and remains suspended midair.

"And to think that I would have once stood beside you as your Queen." The Enchantress mocks the God's failure. "Pitiful. You're not even worth the chance to stand behind me."

With a dramatic flourish of her hand, Amora dispels the forcefield. The sudden burst causes Mjolnir to be thrown back at its owner, knocking Thor a couple hundred feet backwards.

Breathing hard, Loki watches as his brother eats dirt. The Trickster is beyond tired. Broken down and beaten up. He's sustained several stab wounds, a busted lip and broken bones. But that won't stop him. Not even as his body screams at him in pain. Still he continues on the fight.

"Just you and me now." Loki shouts to the would-be All-Queen.

The Enchantress stands proud.

"So glad to see you have embraced the natural order. Might I just say, blue is very much your color." Amora returns, commenting on his Jotun complexion. "Now that you look the part, you're every bit the monster that you really are."

"Why don't you come down here and I'll show you the monster, firsthand." Loki growls.

"You think you're in any condition to face me, wife killer?" With the tilt of her head, she's sure to add a dig.

He'd killed her sisters. Both of them. As well as her mother, too. All her family, her _competition_ , gone because Loki was dumb enough to let her use him as some damned pawn. Well now it's her turn to join them. Tis time Loki adds her name to the list of the dead.

"Let's find out."

Charging his magic, Loki releases a great eldritch blast of pure energy, hurling it at Amora. The Enchantress dodges his attack, but just barely. Mayhap she didn't think he had the power in him to pull off such a hefty stunt. Still, tis the most movement he's seen out of her, well... pretty much _ever_. Always so lackadaisical, tis nice to make her lazy arse jump. Even if his attack did miss the mark.

The Enchantress rolls forward and tosses an eldritch blast of her own, causing Loki to leap out of the way and return blow for blow. Back and forth, the two sorcerers display their skill in a brilliant display of green magic.

A stray blast screams past Loki's head, crashing to the earth directly behind him and exploding on impact. Chunks of debris fly up and knock the Trickster out cold. His tattered body falls beside that of his brothers.

"Asgard was never meant to be stationed at the center of the universe." Rising from her position, Amora makes her way over to her fallen prey. "Your failure here today is a testament to that."

Loki rolls over to his back, groaning in agony. Amora comes up beside him and places her boot atop his neck.

"There will be no peace. No treaties." She leans over, sneering at the word. "I'll do the one thing that my Valkyrie Sisters had not the stomach for. I'll wipe these realms clean of the weak and start again. Rebuild a new Heven, a new _Asgardia_ , where only the strong shall survive. A true center of the universe. One to be proud of."

Amora presses down with her foot, watching Loki struggle as she applies more weight.

"I am the first daughter of Heven." At the snap of his neck, the Enchantress grins ever so slightly. Loki's body falls limp. "Tis time that I reclaim my stolen birthright."

Head high, Amora stands tall and removes her boot from the slain Trickster's neck. Though he played his role well in her plot to restore power to where it had always rightfully belonged, _with her_ , the Enchantress is glad to be through with him. Squashed like a bug.

But maybe now's not the best time for rejoicing, as it seems she's not through with him yet.

The Enchantress turns to find herself face to face with a should be dead Loki.

"But... how?" She stares in disbelief.

He replies by sticking his blade between her ribs.

"Only the strong..." A very alive Loki growls as Amora stumbles back. "Isn't that right, brother?"

Amora turns her head again to meet eyes with who else, but Thor.

"Aye. I believe she did say that." Thor returns with a swing of his hammer.

With a crack of thunder, Amora flies back and lands hard in a pile of rocks. Both Thor and Loki take a step forward, but not any farther before she hits back even harder. Exploding out of the rubble, the Enchantress unleashes a great seismic blast, knocking the brothers right off their feet.

"ENOUGH!" Enraged, she shouts with a cry much like a Valkyries.

The terrible noise makes Loki's ears bleed. He covers his head with his hands but it does little to keep out the skull-splitting sound. Despite her lack of wings, it would appear that Amora is every bit as much a Valkyrie as her late sisters. A surprise to the Jotun-born who's insides are currently turning to jelly.

"Enough of this." The Enchantress growls, brushing the dust from her torn clothes.

She couldn't be more furious with herself for letting her guard down, even for a second around that Trickster. Amora was trained better than that. She _is_ better than that. Than _everyone_.

"I've had enough of your tricks, you annoying little prick."

Wiping the blood from her lip, the Enchantress still can't believe that either of them were able to land such critical hits. But no matter. She'll be done with them both soon enough.

Magic pools in the palm of her hand, gathering up for one final strike. The Enchantress is just about ready to finish them off, when out of nowhere, the sound of singing approaches and she stops herself cold.

Tis faint at first. A gentle chorus echoing across the valley, but then grows louder, stronger, followed by the steady beat of drums. Though neither Thor nor Loki have even the slightest idea as to what such a sound could possibly herald, whatever it is, it has Amora shaking in her black and green boots. Petrified, she's as white as death, itself.

Uncovering his ears, Loki turns to see what all the fuss is about only to find a full battalion of Valkyrie. All of Valhalla. Every last one of them. As far as his eyes can see.

"By the Gods..." Thor gasps.

The greater the ant dictates the size of the boot. And they've come in full force. Ready to attack.


End file.
